


ObiMaul Prompt Fic

by SubMeowchineGun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, but I hunger for that obimaul content, drabble/prompt fic, it's 2 AM rn idk what to tell you, like so many, literally just me trying to beat writers block, not all of them are straight up shippy, or trying at least, so I'm being the change I want to see in the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubMeowchineGun/pseuds/SubMeowchineGun
Summary: Various ObiMaul prompts to try and get me out of a writing slump.





	1. Obi-Wan gets a contract to assassinate Maul. (Assassin Obi-Wan AU)

**Author's Note:**

> As of chapter 1 I have 18 prompts to write. Most them are individual AUs, but I think a few are gonna be in the same AU and they'll be named accordingly. Updates will be sporadic and as I write them. If you want to send a prompt, you can do it over at my tumblr, saintlaurscream.tumblr.com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just before the Clone Wars. Maul is still a Sith apprentice, and Obi-Wan is force sensitive but doesn't know it, and was never taken to the Jedi.

Obi-Wan looked down the scope of his rifle at a cloaked figure. He'd spent the past two weeks just catching up to his current mark, and now came his least favorite part: watching, waiting, learning their schedule. It was tedious, but necessary, especially when they were force-sensitive. There was a short list of things his employer had told Obi-Wan about the contract, and not much else: they were a male Zabrak, they had red and black markings, and they were force-sensitive. He took a moment to readjust, his back and arms stiff from holding his position at the widow. This deep in Coruscant's lower levels, there were always old or abandoned buildings with street-facing windows, perfect for his needs. He refocused on his target, whose pace had slowed to a stop, the crowd flowing around them.

An odd feeling nagged at the back of Obi-Wan's mind, and he immediately pulled his rifle in, throwing himself down and out of sight. For long minutes he laid stock-still on the floor beneath the window, heart racing. The sound of the city outside continued unchanged, and Obi-Wan finally released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He cautiously pushed himself up into a crouch against the wall, paused, then carefully peeked out the window. He caught the briefest glimpse of red as the figured turned away from his position, ducking into an alley.

Obi-Wan hissed a curse under his breath, quickly breaking down his rifle and stowing it in his bag. That was the problem with force-sensitives, they were – well, sensitive. If Obi-Wan had tipped off his mark even a little, he'd be near impossible to find. The feeling was still there, and he patted the part of his jacket that concealed his blaster for reassurance. Confident everything was as it should be, he shouldered his bag and opened the door to hall, then froze. The building he'd been using for surveillance was a condemned apartment block. There were, of course, rooms on the first couple of levels that people used in spite of this, and the room Obi-Wan had chosen was on the fourth.

Nothing was discernibly different from how it should be; the sound of Coruscant's nightlife outside, the muffled sound of tenants below, the hum of various mechanical workings of the planet. The hall was empty, the doors to the other rooms on this floor closed. Obi-Wan took a tentative step, neon light spilling out from behind him into the dim space. He closed the door behind him, blinking to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He listened intently as he casually walked towards the stairway at the end of the hall. Just a few doors away from it, he threw open a door to his right, leaping through and slamming it shut behind him. He kicked away a chair propping up a heavy dresser, and it fell, blocking the door behind him.

Obi-Wan heard footsteps rapidly approach, and the door rattled in it's frame as someone tried to open it. Wasting no time, Obi-Wan pushed open the window in this room, facing a back alley, and slid down a rope he'd tied there. Just after his head passed the window, he heard metal groan. When he was halfway down, the chair from the room came flying out of the window, breaking it and showering him in glass. He had fifteen feet to go when he felt and tug on the rope, and before it could be cut, he pushed off the side of the building, jumping and landing with a roll. His spine and shoulders protested the harsh treatment against the ground, but he immediately took off running. He reached a corner and took it without slowing, and as he turned he caught a glance behind him, of the cloaked figure landing where he'd been moments ago with a muffled _thump_.

Soon, Obi-Wan was weaving a maze through the alleys, taking turns seemingly at random, with the figure's footsteps never far behind. Eventually, the sound faded, but Obi-Wan didn't stop. Instead, he took three quick turns, the last one bringing him out on a crowded street. He immediately slowed, meshing with the crown as he subtly watched the alley he'd come from. When no one appeared, he relaxed marginally, and took a few deep breaths to even his breathing, his heart still pounding with adrenaline. Obi-Wan reoriented himself, and started a roundabout path towards his current safe house. He'd lay low for a few days, see if he could gather any more info from his contacts, and then start looking for his mark's resurfacing.

* * *

When Obi-Wan woke up, it was to sunlight directly in his eyes. He groaned, still groggy, and rolled over, sheets tangling around him more than they already were. He brought his hands up to firmly cover his head with his pillow and end the assault of morning light on his face, but doing so bumped cold metal against his nose. Brows furrowing, he pried one eye open to investigate, and found a pair of binders around his wrists. Suddenly much more awake, he uselessly tried to pull his wrists apart as he scanned the rest of the room. As he tried to pull his legs free from the sheets, he overbalanced, and fell off the side of his bed, breath rushing out of him at the impact, and smacking his elbow solidly on the nightstand on his way down.

Obi-Wan rose to one knee, and looked up to see the cloaked figure, now sans cloak, sitting on a chair placed between him and any of the room's exits. The Zabrak watched him coolly, and though his almost glowing yellow eyes unnerved Obi-Wan, he did his best to appear unaffected. He swallowed down the rising panic at the situation, and instead gave a charming smile that had earned him more than a few free drinks in his life.

“You'll have to forgive me if I don't remember you. Though from the looks of things, we're already well acquainted,” Obi-Wan glanced down at his bound hands and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. The Zabrak stared back, arms crossed, and a muscle in his jaw twitched almost imperceptibly before he spoke.

“Who sent you?” he demanded. Obi-Wan's smile became ever so slightly strained. He slowly rose and gingerly settled himself on the edge of the bed.

“Sent me? I'm quite sure I don't know what you're–,” The Zabrak cut him off before he could finish, uncrossing his arms to settle his hands on his knees.

“I know you have been following me. So either you tell me, or I can make you tell me,” his hands slowly clenched into fists, and he narrowed his eyes in a glare, “Who sent you?” Obi-Wan mulled over the current situation in his mind, and felt very vulnerable in the thin shirt and pants he slept in. He was fairly certain he had a charged blaster in his nightstand, but the binders had been put on while he was asleep, so who was to say that the Zabrak hadn't found it and moved it? Not that he'd get anywhere close to opening the drawer with how closely he was being watched. There were a few careful minutes of silence, Obi-Wan's smile dropped and the both of them staring the other down.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said. “I was hired by a man who I'm quite certain is an aide for the senator for Malastare. Aak, I believe it was?” he asked rhetorically, tapping his chin for dramatic effect while doing his best to surreptitiously loosen the binders. They didn't budge, but the Zabrak seemed too surprised by his sudden cooperation to notice the attempt. His silence prompted Obi-Wan to continue.

“What, did you honestly expect me to hold out? I have no loyalty to the Republic, and I'm certainly not being paid enough to deal with more... intense interrogation methods,” Obi-Wan frowned at that, hands subconsciously tightening their grip on the leg of his pants. No need for the Zabrak to know exactly _what_ he'd been hired to do; that would drastically decrease his chances of making it out of this unscathed. The Zabrak finally recovered, eyes narrowed in concentration, and a pressure formed at Obi-Wan's temples.

“Are you telling the truth?” Maul asked, and though his voice was quiet it rang in Obi-Wan's ears. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden headache.

“Yes,” he snapped irritably, “I just told you, I don't care about the Republic's politics.” The pressure and accompanying headache abruptly subsided, and a quiet sigh of relief slipped out. The Zabrak looked him over appraisingly, then stood.

“What is your name?” His voice was still quiet, though it no longer left Obi-Wan's ears ringing. Obi-Wan looked between the Zabrak and his bound wrists, expectant. The muscle in his jaw visibly twitched this time, but with a small motion of his hand the binders popped open, falling into Obi-Wan's lap. He immediately pushed them away.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he finally answered, rubbing his wrists where the binders had left impressions on the skin. The Zabrak considered this for a moment before he spoke.

“You work for me now, Kenobi. I will pay you double whatever agreement you have with the Senator.” Obi-Wan sat there stunned, and the Zabrak turned away, retrieving his cloak from where it was draped on a chair in the apartment's tiny kitchen. “I will contact you when I have need of your services.”

“Wait,” Obi-Wan called out just before he reached the door, and he stopped. “What do I call you? I make a habit of at least knowing my employers in some fashion.” The Zabrak half-turned to look at him, and thought for a moment.

“You may call me Maul.” With that, he turned and left. _Well,_ Obi-Wan thought, _that certainly went better than I expected._

 


	2. Maul isn't a Sith, but gets mistaken for one by the Jedi. (Mistaken Identity AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set within a year after the occupation of Naboo. Maul wasn't trained by Sidious, and Obi-Wan was still knighted after the occupation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man this idea came to me and my brain RAN WITH IT. Like this got way longer than I thought it would. Maybe at some point I'll post the ridiculous amount of world-building notes I made for this prompt, along with the more reasonable ones for the rest of the prompts too, idk if anyone's interested in that though.

Maul nearly slid around the corner, the motion throwing up dust as he expertly wove through the crowd. It was a few hours before midday, the busiest time of day at this market, making quick passage through it almost impossible. One look at his grim expression, however, sent the people on the edge of the crowd scrambling out of his way, and those further in followed. The space created for him closed almost as soon as he'd left it. He heard the frustrated cries of his pursuers as they failed to elicit a similar reaction, leaving them to try and push their way past the unwilling and protesting locals. Now assured of his escape, he cut through a nearly hidden space between two buildings, starting the walk back to his ship.

This was the third time in as many weeks that someone had chased him for, as far as he could tell, no reason. The first time he'd shrugged off; he'd been on a job at the time, and it wouldn't be the first time someone had decided to screw over their boss and try to steal cargo. They'd found him as he was going back to his ship, and thanks to the fortuitous overturning of some hovercarts, he'd had enough time to slip into his ship and take off. He hadn't recognized the man, and paid little mind to his oddly Jedi-like clothing, more concerned with the clearly aggressive intent he was approaching with.

The second time it happened, he'd been haggling for parts. He'd just used the last of his spares to repair his engine after he'd landed, and made a habit of always having spare parts for at least the bare essentials. Business conducted, he'd arranged to have the parts delivered to his ship, and turned to leave. On the way out, he'd nearly run over a teenager, who'd frozen, gaping at him. Maul had barely paused to give their now ashen face a glance. Even as close to the Outer Rim as this planet was, younglings tended to react that way to the combination of his stark markings and perpetually severe expression. As soon as he'd turned away, they'd sprinted in the opposite direction, calling out to someone down the street.

At the noise he'd stopped and looked back, along with a few other pedestrians. There at the corner, the youngling stood next to what seemed to be a Jedi, based on the robes and saber hilt at her belt, pointing back in Maul's direction. Maul suddenly remembered the incident a little over a week ago, with a similarly robed figure.

 _Ah_ , Maul had thought to himself, _That's probably not good._ The woman with the saber followed the youngling's pointed finger to look at him. Maul kept his expression neutral as they met eyes, and her expression turned surprised, before it hardened into determination. Still only half-turned, Maul's feet had shifted ever so slightly, and before the woman could take a complete step Maul was gone. The distance between them had worked in his favor, and after a short chase, he'd felt he had lost her thoroughly enough to return to his ship. He'd wasted enough time loosing the woman that his parts had been delivered, and after loading them into his cargo bay he immediately took his ship into orbit.

The first thing he'd done was check the bounty boards. It was entirely possible (though honestly unlikely if he actually thought about it) that he happened to match the description of a bounty enough to be targeted. It was even possible that he'd offended someone with sufficient credits enough to warrant a grudge. After a thorough search, however, he'd come up with nothing. He'd briefly entertained the idea that they actually _were_ Jedi, but it was quickly dismissed. He kept to himself for the most part, and he hadn't done anything to warrant attention from a group of mystical weirdos. With a sigh, he'd massaged his tired eyes, then set the hyperdrive coordinates for his next cargo drop-off, and dismissed the entire situation as some ridiculous cosmic fluke.

Now, on the other hand, he no longer had the luxury of writing things off. The two people chasing him had almost definitely been Jedi, and when they'd seen him they had not at all looked like they were in the mood for talking. Upon spotting him, one of them had even _drawn his stars damned lightsaber!_ In the middle of a crowded market! If this was indicative of the Jedi on a broader scale, Maul's neutral opinion of them was swiftly turning into a bad one. He'd frozen at the time, and there were a few seconds of complete silence, before noise exploded around them, the crowd shouting and scrambling away once they realized what was happening. To be fair, the other one seemed to be just as surprised by the sudden saber ignition as Maul, and as they stepped forward to say something, Maul ran. He'd heard a pair of curses, and the _whoosh_ of a lightsaber extinguishing as the Jedi gave chase.

Maul arrived back at the hanger where his ship was docked, and boarded the Delaya-class courier immediately. As he went through the departure procedures, his hearts still pounded with adrenaline. Why the hell were these Jedi after him? His mind raced as he absently made a short jump to the nearest system; he'd actually been at the market for a reason, that being he was getting low on supplies, and while he did have rations for emergencies, they were far from pleasant. He docked at one of the moon's smaller space ports, and slumped in his seat, exhausted now that the adrenaline was wearing off. After a few minutes of this, his pushed himself up, and left the cockpit. Those supplies weren't going to buy themselves.

* * *

 Two weeks had passed since his last run-in with any Jedi. As Maul threw his cloak around his shoulders, he paused and looked at the saberstaff sitting on his shelf. He'd found it a little over a week ago, when he was digging through a scrap yard in search of a specific, but difficult to find, part. It was battered, and wouldn't ignite, but he'd felt a strange pull towards it, and had thrown it onto his small pile of selected scrap. After some tinkering, it had shakily sputtered to life, flickering a bit before it stabilized. He'd taken to carrying it with him in rougher towns, and appreciated that it kept people from bothering him, more than his appearance already did. He wasn't too concerned with this port, it was on a planet closer to the Core Worlds than he usually ventured. After another moment of contemplation, he clipped the saberstaff to his belt anyway; if the people chasing him for no reason carried lightsabers, why couldn't he?

Like always, Maul tugged his hood over his head as he walked down his ship's ramp. The _Rapier_ 's hatch closed behind him, and he accessed a map of the port on his datapad as he walked out of the hanger. Unfamiliar with this port as he was, it still didn't take him long to find his destination on the map; a mechanics shop that he was supposed to meet his next client at. Following the map, he arrived a few minutes earlier than the meeting was set for, and took the opportunity to observe the street the shop stood on, and the building it was in. Situated about halfway between two intersections, the shop itself seemed to be in good shape, though it's age was starting to show. The buildings on either side had a similar look, colors faded from the sun's rays.

A device somewhere overhead made a sound as he opened the door, and a bored looking human teenager behind the counter looked up from their datapad. As Maul stepped towards the counter, a ruckus started from somewhere behind the human. Maul and the teenager both looked at the doorway leading to the back room, and a Dug in stained overalls came bustling through it, wiping her dirty hands on a rag.

“Child, how many times have I told you to greet the customers!” she groused, hauling herself up onto a stool behind the counter.

“I didn't get the chance,” they mumbled halfheartedly, looking back at their datapad. The Dug's attention had already turned to Maul, who they looked over with a critical eye. Maul looked back, arms folded.

“You are Jegin Rossuno?” Maul asked.

“Yes,” Jegin answered, squinting to look under his hood. “You're Sathan and Pry's boy then?” Maul nodded, and her posture relaxed ever so slightly.

“Alright, follow me,” Jegin said, hopping off the stool and leading the way to the back room. “Atlin, watch the shop!” she called back to the teenager, who mumbled an incoherent reply, still engrossed in whatever they were looking at. Maul followed Jegin through the doorway, into a large room. The walls were lined with worktables covered in parts and projects, and an overhead door took up most of the back wall. She led him to one of the tables, and after pulling herself up onto another stool there, she opened a drawer, taking a datacard and credit chip from it.

“You get half from me,” she said, handing him the card and chip, ”And the other half when the data is delivered.” Maul took both, nodded, and placed the card in an inner pocket of his tunic. He used his datapad to confirm the balance of the chip, then left back through the front of the shop. As he passed, Atlin paid him no mind, and as the door closed behind him he heard Jegin begin to scold them again.

Maul returned to his ship, and after a brief inventory and some mental calculations, decided he could put off a supply run for now. He settled himself into the pilots seat, and after sending the necessary departure notifications to the port, piloted his ship out of the planet's atmosphere. Once he was far enough out of orbit, he made the first of a few short hyperspace jumps that would take him to the planet his drop-off point was on. Though the jumps were short, they were just long enough for him to settle back and relax before he had to set the next set of coordinates into the nav computer. During one such period, he leaned back and stretched, thinking about the datacard in his pocket.

Like always, there was the brief curiosity over it's contents, which was quickly dismissed. He already knew as much as he needed to about this job, and giving into the temptation of looking at the contents of the datacard would inevitably cause problems down the road. Pushing the thought aside, his mind instead drifted to how he'd come to take this job instead. It wasn't often that either of his mothers sent clients his way, preferring to let him make his own way when it came to his professional life. Maul appreciated this, and was certain that this instance was mainly an excuse to check in on him. Which he couldn't fault them for, since he did much the same to them from time to time. The nature of bounty hunting kept them moving, much like Maul's work did to him, which made regular contact impractical. He had expected a call while he was still planet-side to retrieve the datacard, but the lack of one didn't alarm him.

The _Rapier_ came out of it's final jump, and Maul shoved the last piece of the jerky he'd been eating into his mouth so he could take the controls. The spaceport here was much more active, and he had to pilot around a steady flow of freighters and transports to make it to the docking space he'd paid for in advance. It was a small relief when he settled the ship in it's spot, and he checked his comm for the time; he had about an hour before he had to meet his contact and deliver the chip. It would take at least half of that to get to the location he'd been given, so he secured his ship and started for the exit to the space port. He was almost to the exit of the docking area when he spotted a familiar YT freighter, it's geometric red markings stark against the drab gray plating.

He paused mid step, and before his foot could resume it's journey downward, a pair of thick arms wrapped around his waist, pinning his own arms to his torso. Maul made a strangled sound of alarm, instinctively throwing his head back and aiming a kick in the general direction of his captor's shins. A hissing laugh met his attempt to gore them with his horns as they glanced off armor, and Maul stilled, glancing down at the vermilion arms wrapped around him. He relaxed, and he was set back on his feet, the arms releasing him. He turned around, and before he'd done more than open his mouth to speak, he was being lifted again and crushed face-first against that same armor, though his arms were thankfully free this time.

“Hello, Pry'buir,” Maul's voice was muffled between Pry's armor and his still-hooded head, and he wrapped his own arms around her broad shoulders to return the hug.

“Hey, squirt!” the Trandoshan settled him back on his feet, then leaned down to gently knock her snout against the side of his head. “Did you get smaller since the last time I saw you?” she teased. Maul huffed through his nose, and rolled his eyes as he pushed his head into the gesture, careful of his horns. “No, Pry'buir, you must have gotten bigger,” he said back. She chuckled as she pulled away, taking a step back, and Maul turned to the Zabrak woman standing to Pry's left. The corners of her mouth pulled into a slight frown as she looked him over, the silvery tattoos against her dark skin making the expression more pronounced. The patch of wavy dark hair that grew from the top and crown of her head was pulled back into a thick braid that hung past her shoulders.

“Maul, where is your armor?” Sathan asked. In response, Maul pulled aside his tunic at the neck, revealing the edge of a breastplate. She considered this for a moment, then let her expression relax into a smile. She stepped forward and gave Maul her own hug.

“It's good to see you, ad'ika,” Sathan told him, pressing her cheek to his, a soft rumble in her chest.

“It's good to see you too, Sa'buir,” Maul replied while giving her a soft squeeze, leaning down slightly to press back with a quiet purr of his own. Both of them pulled back, and Maul looked at the time on his comm, frowning; how had it already been 10 minutes? He looked back up at Pry and Sathan to excuse himself, and they both waved him off.

“Go finish your job. It shouldn't take too long, and we're not going anywhere,” Pry told him, Sathan leaning against her with crossed arms. Maul paused, then nodded.

“I'll see you later, buir,” Maul said, righting his cloak as he turned and walked out of the port. He heard quiet, indistinguishable conversation from Sathan and Pry as he left, but paid it no mind. If it was important, his mothers would tell him. Right now, he focused on getting to the drop-off point so that he wouldn't have an angry Dug after him.

* * *

Maul was late. It was only by 15 minutes, but with this kind of job every minute counted. Usually when he was hired to transport information, it's arrival was time-sensitive. Maul really hoped that whoever he was supposed to meet was still there as he entered the bar. It was the kind of place that had a steady stream of customers no matter the hour, and right now was no different. He settled himself at the bar as per the instructions he'd received, and ordered something he had no intention of actually drinking. The room felt warm, so Maul pulled down the hood of his cloak, receiving instant relief. The feeling was short-lived however, because as soon as it was down, he felt the sinking in his stomach that meant someone was watching him. Maul casually lifted his drink once it arrived, masking his glance behind him by pretending to take a drink.

In a booth nestled into a corner, a human with short reddish hair sat, watching him with narrowed eyes and a coldly reserved expression. A shiver ran down Maul's spine, the look reminding him a bit too much of his Jedi encounters to be comfortable. He quickly glanced around to see if his contact was anywhere, but no one else was paying him any attention. They must have already left. Maul cursed under his breath, standing as he tossed some credits down on the bar top. He'd just have to reschedule the drop, this job was _not_ worth getting run through by some crazy Jedi. Before, he would have thought staying in a crowded place was his safest option, but as had been demonstrated by his last encounter, they didn't seem to care about that.

Rather than going for the door, Maul headed for the 'fresher. With any luck, there'd be a window, and if not, a back entrance. He turned the corner into a hallway, 'fresher doors on one side and another with a lit up 'EXIT' sign at the end. The watched feeling returned, and though a glance over his shoulder revealed nothing, he bypassed the 'fresher doors and went straight for the exit. He heard footsteps behind him as he stepped outside, and threw the door closed behind him as hard as he could, breaking into a sprint out of the back alley. The door made an odd sound as it hit something, and swung back out into the wall of the building with a crash. A split-second later, Maul heard someone running out after him, but he was already rounding the corner, and threw up his hood as he slowed to match pace with the crowd. His pursuer audibly skidded to a halt, most likely to avoid hitting a pedestrian by the sound of the angry Ithorese immediately after.

Maul turned at the street corner, peering out from under his hood at the human from the bar, who was still trying to placate the angry Ithorian he'd almost bowled over. Looking back, Maul noticed the lightsaber poking out from it's hiding place under the man's jacket, which no one else seemed to have seen. Just before he passed out of view, the man's gaze darted in his direction and their eyes met. Then Maul was around the corner, and he hurried back to the port before the Jedi had a chance to follow him. The journey back was significantly faster than it had been leaving, and he bypassed his mothers' ship, the _Ge'tal Cabur_ , instead boarding his own and setting up a long-range comm to Jegin. The screen showed a loading symbol for almost a minute before connecting. Jegin's disgruntled face flashed into view, and she wasted no time tearing into him.

“I just got a comm from your contact!” Maul subtly winced at her tone of voice, his hood thankfully still on and hiding his expression somewhat. “He said that you never showed up, and that some –,“ she waved a hand around, saying something in Dug before continuing, “– some kind of force user, he used an odd word, showed up.” At this she fell silent, waiting expectantly. Maul took a deep, quiet breath through nose. The Jedi must have scared his no-doubt skittish contact off. It soured his mood that this information was apparently being sought by the Jedi, and no one had bothered to tell him.

“Yes, I ran into this force user as well,” Maul smoothly replied. No need to mention that he'd been late. Jegin rubbed the tips of her fingers up the bridge of her nose to her forehead, letting out a tired sigh.

“Well luckily, your contact is willing to try again. Here's the details,” Jegin typed something into the console on her end, and the coordinates for a warehouse near the space port came through on an encrypted file, along with the time, about an hour from now. Maul consulted his mental map of the area, thinking of the quickest route there.

“Just be careful,” Jegin started, “I don't need Pry Arzyn all over me because got you hurt doing a job for me.” Maul gave her a flat, unamused look, and she ended the call, muttering something about 'crazy Trandoshans and their Mandos'. After looking over the file Jegin had sent him once more, Maul rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, loosening the tension there from his encounter with yet another Jedi. _I need to figure out why the Jedi are attacking me on sight,_ Maul thought. It would have to wait for now though, he wasn't taking any chances with this meeting. He left his ship once more, and before long he had reached the warehouse Jegin had specified. He had a good half hour left, and took the time to check the immediate area, as well as the interior of the warehouse. There were no workers, and none of the doors were secured. He couldn't find a company logo on the exterior, or any of the storage crates inside, but aside from that there wasn't anything out of place.

 _Must belong to one of Jegin's contacts,_ Maul thought, _Or maybe whoever wants this datacard._ All of this had taken most of the time he had left, so he leaned against a crate with a good view of the entrance. He patted the saberstaff on his belt for reassurance, and took a moment to check that his blaster was in it's proper place, then settled in to wait. It didn't take long before he heard someone walking around outside, doing much the same thing he'd done earlier. They circled the building a few times, albeit more quietly than most people would be able to hear. The crate he was leaning against was shadowed and to the side of the entrance, and along with his dark cloak and clothes, Maul knew he was hard to pick out of the dim interior of the warehouse, despite the fact that it was only a little after midday. Then the door opened with a creak, light spilling in around a figure, and Maul tensed.

The initial glare of the sunlight around them faded as Maul's eyes adjusted, and the Jedi from the bar stepped inside. He scanned the room, and his eyes widened when they landed on Maul. It only took another second for his expression to smooth out, and as his hand reached back to grab his saber, his stance widened easily into a battle-ready pose. Maul slowly straightened, uncrossing his arms without taking his eyes off the Jedi. At this point, he was more than a little annoyed, and a sneer worked it's way onto his face as they stared each other down. Neither of them moved for a long minute; the Jedi's face unreadable, and Maul wondering if he had enough time to lead him away, then come back to make the exchange. What should have been a quick and simple job had swiftly turned into a whole barrel of trouble, one that Maul had been unwilling and unprepared to deal with.

Something must have set the Jedi off, because suddenly he leapt forward, lightsaber ignited and casting a blue tinge on the area around it. Maul barely managed to grab his saberstaff and bring one ignited end up to block the strike. The balance of the weapon felt off in his hands, so different from the curved _beskad_ Sathan had taught him to fight with. He abruptly pushed his blade back against the Jedi's with the same strength he would have used against Pry, and the man stumbled back to regain his footing, looking surprised at the force of the blow. Maul quickly moved forward so he wasn't pinned back against the stacked crates, and began to slowly circle his opponent. If he timed this right, he could make a run for the door, and lead the Jedi on a merry chase through back alleys. He should be able to lose him, and hopefully his contact would be here when he got back.

The Jedi seemed to take the bait, mirroring his movements to maintain the space between them. Maul was almost close enough to the still open door to make a run for it when the other man raised a hand, brow furrowing in concentration. Behind Maul, metal creaked as a stack of crates came toppling over, and he dove out of the way, using his saber to cut a crate that still fell too close. Doing this pulled his attention from the Jedi however, and Maul had to ignite the other end of his saberstaff to block another strike. Off-balance, Maul tried to rise from where he'd fallen to one knee, but the Jedi was hitting his stride, his blows precise and confident. Maul's hood had fallen off during his dive, and he hissed as a slash almost took the tip off of one horn.

“I won't allow you to steal the datacard,” the Jedi announced, Coruscanti accent dark with determination. Maul's surprise made him fumble, and he grimaced as he received a minor burn on his arm, but still managed to push the man back enough so that he could stand. The next strike locked their sabers briefly, and Maul narrowed his eyes at him through the purplish light created by the meeting of their red and blue blades.

“Isn't that what you're trying to do?” Maul growled at him, and then their sabers were free, both of them stepping back to circle each other again. Maul passed the door without a thought, too focused on what the Jedi would say. The man had a puzzled expression now, but he didn't lower his lightsaber from it's ready position.

“No,” the Jedi began, “ _I'm_ here to receive important information for the Republic. And I'm sorry to disappoint, but you won't be getting it,” he finished, a corner of his mouth lifting into a taunting smirk. Maul abruptly stopped, and the Jedi copied him, face going serious once more. _You have got to be kidding me,_ Maul thought as he looked blankly back at the suspicious Jedi, realization dawning. Slowly, with his saberstaff still lit but no longer up and ready, he reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the datacard. He held it up so the man could see it clearly.

“Well, I'm here to deliver important information to the Republic,” Maul deadpanned, and the Jedi's expression morphed into shock. He sputtered for a moment before recovering, raising his saber back up from where it had begun to fall.

“If that's true, then what's the pass phrase?” he demanded. _My life is a joke,_ Maul wants to say, _and it's not even a good one._

“The Chancellor could really use a haircut,” he said instead, in the same monotone as before. The Jedi gaped at him, sputtering again as Maul extinguished his saberstaff and clipped it to his belt.

“But – why are you helping the Republic?” The Jedi asked, his own lightsaber now lowered and extinguished as well.

“Because I was hired to,” Maul enunciated slowly, as if he was speaking to a child. The Jedi's face flushed and he scowled at Maul.

“But you're a Sith!” the man exclaimed. _What,_ Maul thought.

“What,” Maul said, nonplussed.

“You're a Sith,” the Jedi repeated, seeming a little unsure of himself now at Maul's reaction.

“What in the blazes makes you think I'm a Sith?” Maul demanded. The Jedi was taken aback, but quickly recovered.

“Well, just look at you,” and he gestured to Maul's entire person.

“And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?” Maul narrowed his eyes, voice taking on a dangerous edge. The Jedi scrambled to clarify at the sound.

“I mean your clothes! No one dresses like that!” he insisted.

“Firstly,” Maul practically hissed and held up his index finger, “ _I_ dress like this, and _secondly_ , I don't want to hear anything about my clothing choices from some _Jetii_ who can't even throw together a decent plain-clothes disguise.” The Jedi's face twisted into an offended expression, and he looked between Maul and his own oddly-matched clothing rapidly a few times before shaking his head.

“What about your lightsaber?” he said instead of replying, and Maul's hand subconsciously went to it where it was on his belt.

“I found it broken in a junkyard. I don't think I need to tell you how useful having one is,” Maul replied, voice back to it's regular, even tone. The Jedi seemed to be at a momentary loss, and didn't say anything for a minute.

“Well, what about your eyes? They're bright yellow!” he finally said, this time pointing an accusing finger at Maul. Maul stared at him with an incredulous frown.

“That's just what color my eyes are, you _ass,_ are you –,” he growled, then cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose while he heaved an aggravated sigh. “Look,” he started again, “As much as I would _love_ to stand around and debate with you about whether or not I'm a Sith,” he paused briefly to give the other man a withering glare, “I'd rather be doing literally anything else. So if we could just make this exchange like I'm being paid to do, I have other things to do today.” The Jedi seemed chastened, and was visibly pensive for a moment. Finally, he clipped his saber to it's place on his belt, stepping forward.

“I apologize,” he began, “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight.” Obi-Wan offered his hand; Maul stared at it, and gave substantial consideration to ignoring the gesture. Then he thought about how he might be able to clear up this whole 'Sith' mess with the rest of the Jedi as well.

“Maul,” he said, stiffly shaking Obi-Wan's outstretched hand.

“Just Maul?” Obi-Wan asked, and received a pointed look. “Alright, fair enough,” he sighed, and released Maul's hand. He crossed his arms and studied Maul with a tilt to his head, and Maul got the distinct impression that Kenobi had forgotten he wasn't in Jedi robes. Maul felt an odd sensation, like static electricity, which made his shoulders twitch upwards as if he'd been shocked; there was a distant, fuzzy feeling in his temples, and he grit his teeth and glared at Obi-Wan. He seemed surprised at the reaction.

“Stop that!” Maul growled at him, and knew that his tattoos made the expression on his face something terrifying. The feeling abruptly ceased.

“You really aren't a Sith, are you?” Obi-Wan said mostly to himself, and adopted a concerned frown. “I'm afraid that the Jedi Order is under the impression that you _are_ a Sith Lord, Maul.” Maul hummed to himself.

“I'd wondered why Jedi were suddenly attacking me on sight,” he replied dryly, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat and averted his eyes briefly.

“I really am sorry about that,” he muttered, straightening his ill-fitting jacket self-consciously, “I'm certain if you spoke to the council, all of this could be cleared up quite easily.”

“So your solution to Jedi attacking me, is to go to the place that has more Jedi in it than anywhere else in the universe?”

“Ah. I see your point,” Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his chin, mussing the rough beginnings of a beard. “Well, I'll certainly speak to them about this. Though, if you had an escort of some kind –,” he cut himself off as Maul held up the datacard, one tattooed brow raised. “Oh! Yes, of course,” he said, and reached out to take it. Before he could, there was a crash outside the warehouse, followed by a muffled curse. Maul and Obi-Wan both froze, heads turning in the direction of the noise. A glance told Maul that Obi-Wan's hand was back to resting on the lightsaber still on his belt, and his eyes had closed in concentration. Maul tucked the datacard back into his tunic, eyeing the few entrances. He was focused enough that he missed Obi-Wan lunging behind the toppled crates from earlier, a hand wrapped around Maul's upper arm pulling him along. Maul landed with a grunt, as a second later a pair of doors on the far end of the warehouse were kicked in, followed by blasterfire.

Maul pulled himself up into a crouch, drawing his blaster. He chanced a glance over the top of the crates, and managed to count 4 people before he was forced back down to avoid a bolt. Behind him, Obi-Wan took a deep breath. When Maul looked over at him, his eyes widened as he watched Obi-Wan leap up onto the crates, lightsaber drawn. He began deflecting bolts, and it took Maul a few seconds to process this, before he used the new cover this created to start shooting back. His earlier count was holding up, and he picked off a pair of them while the other two fell to their own deflected bolts. Maul cautiously lowered his blaster, scanning the area, and Obi-Wan jumped down from his perch, saber extinguished once more.

“Not friends of yours, I take it?” Obi-Wan asked. Maul open his mouth to reply, but before he could, his breath was knocked out of him by the blasterbolt that slammed into the center of his chest. He landed hard on his back, and heard a lightsaber ignite a second before another bolt was fired. The crackle of plasma hitting the blade of the saber echoed, followed by the sizzle of burnt clothing and the thud of a body hitting the ground. Then Obi-Wan was leaning over him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Maul! Are you alright?” Obi-Wan demanded, concern coloring his voice. Maul wheezed in reply, clutching the fabric of his tunic where he'd been hit. Obi-Wan pushed his hand away, pulling the fabric of his clothes aside to reveal the scorched and dented metal of Maul's _beskar'gam_ chestplate. Obi-Wan's tense shoulders immediately fell with a sigh of relief, and he sat back on his heels while Maul laid there, trying to catch his breath. Obi-wan helped him sit up, then stand, waiting as Maul took a few deep breaths.

“Just what kind of information _is_ this?” Maul croaked, fixing Obi-Wan with an unamused and faintly pained look. He absently rubbed the impact point on his chest, then straightened his tunic back into place; the fabric around the hole was scorched beyond repair, and Maul mentally lamented the loss of a perfectly good tunic. Obi-Wan considered the question with a conflicted frown.

“Well, I'm not technically supposed to speak to anyone about it, but I feel we're a bit past that,” he said, glancing back at the now five bodies littering the warehouse. “I assume you know of the Naboo Occupation earlier this year?” Maul nodded; it had been covered relentlessly by every major news feed in the galaxy, despite the fact that by the time it had come to light it had already ended. Supposedly the Trade Federation had been behind it all, and the resulting trials were still underway with no end in sight –.

“Oh,” Maul said. That certainly explained things. Obi-Wan nodded, and looked at the still smoking bodies of their attackers with a frown.

“If they managed to follow me here, then there's probably more watching my ship,” he sighed, then looked Maul over with an appraising eye. Maul didn't like that look one bit.

“What would you say to me offering you a job, Maul?” Maul finally straightened completely, taking a few deep breaths before responding.

“I'd say that depends,” he started, “What kind of job?” His voice was better now, almost back to normal. “I'd also say that you still haven't paid me for this,” and dug the datacard out of his tunic. Obi-Wan blinked, taking it from him. Then he pulled out a credit chip, handing it to Maul, who shoved it into his pocket.

“Well, it's most likely that my ship is being watched, or has been sabotaged in some manner. I'd like you to take me back to Coruscant.” Obi-Wan said. Maul considered it for a moment. He usually preferred to have a few days warning when he took jobs transporting people; he always had to mentally prepare for the intrusion on the personal space of his ship for however long the trip was, usually just a few days. To get to Coruscant from here, however, would take something like five.

“And of course, the Republic will be more than happy to compensate you for the trouble. Additionally, I can help you clear up this awful misunderstanding with the Order once we arrive!” at this Obi-Wan gave him a sunny smile, and Maul groaned internally. He'd been looking forward to the chance to spend some time with his mothers, but being able to stop looking over his shoulder for Jedi was (probably) worth it.

“Alright,” Maul said, nodding at Obi-Wan, “Follow me.” Maul led the way back to the dock, and then to his ship. He spared the _Ge'tal Cabur_ a wistful glance as they passed, and Obi-Wan looked curiously at the ship when he noticed Maul's attention to it.

“Someone you know?” he asked.

“Yes,” Maul said, and left it at that.

A few minutes of walking later, they reached the _Rapier_ and boarded. Maul showed Obi-Wan the room he used for passengers, along with the galley, 'fresher, and lounge. He left him to his own devices, heading to the cockpit. He sent a brief message to his mothers's ship: _something came up, leaving for Coruscant_. It was only a few minutes before he got a reply, as he was entering his ship into the takeoff queue. It was much longer than his, which meant that Pry was the one writing it, and boiled down to telling him to be safe, alongside a date and set of coordinates. He smiled as he saved the message, and lifted off as his turn in the queue finally came. Before he knew it they were out of the atmosphere, then out of orbit, and once the nav computer was set, he sent them into hyperspace. Maul leaned back in his chair, head tilted back and looking at the ceiling of the cockpit. Now he just had to spend a week in and out of hyperspace with some Jedi.

That was going to be fun. _Not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that I can give Maul space lesbian moms and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me


	3. Maul and Obi-Wan pretend to be in a relationship for the purpose of an undercover mission. (Assassin Obi-Wan AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Assassin Obi-Wan AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 4 AM, any typos are a problem for future me  
> ////  
> Ok, the chapter has now been edited, and all the tiny things I could find fixed

Obi-Wan had to admit, while he had initially been skeptical of the situation, working for Maul wasn't nearly as bad as he'd feared it might be. After being in his employ for a little over two months, most of what Obi-Wan had been tasked with had been gathering information. That, and occasionally tracking down various people who, as far as he could tell, Maul seemed to view as beneath spending his time on. To be quite honest, Obi-Wan was getting a little bored with the under-utilization of his skills; not that he was going to complain. He had no intention of letting Maul find out what he'd _actually_ been hired by Senator Aak to do. That was a conversation he could go without having, thank you _very_ much. Maul living up to his promise of payment certainly didn't hurt either.

This latest task, however... Obi-Wan was sure Maul wouldn't like what he'd have to tell him. So he was understandably apprehensive while waiting for Maul, sitting in a booth at the bar they'd agreed to meet at a few days prior. Not that you could tell; Obi-Wan's outward appearance and demeanor was the same as they always were. His shoulders barely even twitched in surprise when Maul slid into the seat across from him out of nowhere. Obi-Wan just _knew_ he was doing it on purpose. Maul's mouth curved into a smirk for a brief second at his reaction, then it was back to the usual, almost angry expression that he'd come to expect. Obi-Wan very carefully didn't think the words “resting bitch face”.

Instead, he leaned back, taking a sip of his drink while noting Maul's conspicuous lack of one. He was wearing the hooded cloak that Obi-Wan couldn't remember ever seeing him without, barring their first meeting in his safehouse. Maul's seemingly unblinking yellow eyes weren't any less unsettling now than they had been then.

“So what have you found out?” Maul asked as soon as Obi-Wan had set his glass down.

“Well,” he began, “The Hutts are, in fact, hosting an event of some kind.” Maul said nothing, so he continued, “Unfortunately, unless you're willing to raise a small army, I don't see much chance of getting in without an invitation.” Maul looked at him expectantly, and Obi-Wan let out a resigned sigh.

“I've done work for the Hutts before, so I'm fairly certain I can acquire an invitation. However, it would only extend to _me,_ not any... business associates.” While Maul's expression hadn't changed, his voice had a decidedly annoyed edge to it when he spoke.

“I assume you have a solution to this, and that you aren't just wasting my time,” Maul said in that quietly menacing way of his.

“I do, but I don't think you're going to like it,” Obi-Wan said with a wry grin.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan couldn't believe that Maul had agreed to his plan. He'd been right, Maul _wasn't_ happy about the idea, but the fact that he'd gone along with it was shocking. As they walked into view of the building where the event was being held, and thus into view of the guards and other guests, Obi-Wan fixed his features into his usual self-assured expression. He also did his best to ignore how Maul tensed, almost imperceptibly, at his side when Obi-Wan settled his hand at the small of his back.

“Careful _darling,_ someone might get suspicious with you so tense,” Obi-Wan said softly, while they were still far enough from the entrance to not be overheard. Maul glared at him from the corner of his eye and growled under his breath, but his shoulders relaxed nonetheless. Guards stood on either side of the entrance, and directly in front of the doors was a Mandalorian with gray and yellow armor, a datapad in hand. They scrolled through something on it, then stepped aside for the pair of Devaronians they'd been speaking to, waving them through. Obi-Wan and Maul arrived just as the doors closed, stopping a polite distance in front of the Mandalorian. They looked up from their datapad, face obscured under their helmet.

“Jax Wren, fancy seeing you here,” Obi-Wan said, giving him a friendly grin. A short, quiet laugh came through the filter on Jax's helmet.

“Yeah, yeah, Kenobi, you think you're hilarious, I know,” Jax shook his head, scrolling through and selecting something on his datapad. “Who's your friend?” he asked, helmet tilting in Maul's direction. Obi-Wan gently grabbed Maul's opposite hip and tugged him closer, and was surprised on some level when Maul let himself be man-handled into leaning against him.

“Why, this lovely creature is my companion for the evening,” Obi-Wan told Jax, giving him conspiratorial wink. Jax almost visibly rolled his eyes under the helmet, tapping something into his datapad, and the doors behind him opened.

“Well, enjoy your evening. Don't think I need to give you the speech about not starting anything,” Jax said, stepping aside. Obi-Wan nodded to him as he led Maul inside, and Jax didn't spare them another look as another guest arrived behind them. The doors closed with a soft hiss, and with the sounds of Nar Shaddaa blocked by the doors, they could hear the noise of the party from the end of the long hallway they'd just entered. Obi-Wan didn't stop, and soon they were milling along with the rest of the guests. He noticed Maul shoot him a glance, and spoke just loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

“Jax and I have been hired by the same employer before. He's the one who acquired our invitation,” he explained, and Maul nodded, already scanning the room. He let Obi-Wan lead them leisurely around the room, past the various objects on display. A variety of Jedi artifacts sat on raised pedestals across the open space, secured behind protective force fields. On a raised dais at the wall farthest from the entrance sat Grakkus; the Hutt said something to the guests before him, and they chuckled politely. Obi-Wan carefully avoided wandering too close, unwilling to chance being pulled into the conversation somehow.

Obi-Wan glanced down at Maul beside him, once again taking in the unfamiliar clothes he now wore. When Obi-Wan had proposed this plan to him, Maul had only glared caustically; the expression persisted until Obi-Wan raised his hands in surrender, saying that it was only a suggestion. Though a frown remained (which, if Obi-Wan was being honest, seemed to be Maul default expression anyway), he actually seemed to consider it. When Maul finally agreed, Obi-Wan barely hid his surprise. Then Maul moved on to the rest of the planning, and Obi-Wan didn't mention it again.

Gone were the plain black cloak, layered tunic, and loose pants Maul had worn every time he'd seen him. Instead, he wore a fitted black shirt and pants, with a less worn and well-polished version of his usual boots. Gold edging ran along the hems of both garments, and the shirt's short sleeves revealed the pattern of Maul's tattoos, that Obi-Wan had never seen other than on his face and neck. They continued even to his hands, which were now gloveless, and Obi-Wan let himself glide through the crowd on auto-pilot while he shamelessly examined the pattern. Maul subtly jabbed him with his elbow, and Obi-Wan winced.

“Pay attention,” Maul growled at him, and Obi-Wan looked up. Without him realizing, Maul had used the hand Obi-Wan still had wrapped around his hip to lead them closer to the edge of the crowd, and towards a doorway deeper into the building. Which was where an access terminal to the buildings systems would be. Obi-Wan looked around; there weren't any guards watching this hallway specifically, though most likely someone patrolled through at regular intervals, they wouldn't leave it completely unguarded –.

Obi-Wan's train of thought was broken by a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. Immediately after, he felt Maul tense beside him and slowly turn to look at the entrance. Obi-Wan followed his gaze, and saw a tall human walk in. He scanned the room with an even expression, and Maul's shoulders curled up around his ears as he hissed quietly under his breath. The human didn't seem to notice them, and Obi-Wan took the opportunity to look him over. He was older, his long hair and beard beginning to gray, but he held himself with squared shoulders and an air of calm self-assurance. He wore a non-descript brown cloak, and Obi-Wan almost missed the child peeking out from behind him. He was twelve at the most, gazing around the room with wide, interested eyes, and his hair was cut into the distinctive shape of a Jedi padawan's. _Interesting,_ Obi-Wan thought.

“I suppose it would be too optimistic to assume they're old friends of yours,” Obi-Wan deadpanned, looking down at Maul, who had repositioned them so that Obi-Wan stood between the Jedi, now making their way through the crowd, and himself. Maul frowned severely, and pulled him closer to the edge of the room. Obi-Wan glanced back at the Jedi as he and Maul reached the doorway. Despite his height, the Jedi frowned as he failed to push through the crowd quickly and reach Grakkus, presumably hindered by maintaining a hold on the padawan, who was so short Obi-Wan couldn't even see him now. Finally, he and Maul reached the doorway. Still looking back, Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of the padawan as the crowd briefly parted. He met Obi-Wan's eyes for a moment, before he glanced at the back of Maul's head. His features twisted in confusion, and something like recognition crossed his face. His eyes darted back to Obi-Wan, who gave him a friendly grin and wave before the crowd closed between them again.

“Stop that,” Maul grumbled, breaking away from his hold now that they were out of the main room. He led them around a bend, and they passed a number of doors before stopping in front of a terminal.

“Was that something I should be concerned about?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning against the wall and watching the way they'd come from. Maul quickly typed something, seemingly ignoring him. Obi-Wan resisted rolling his eyes, but did let himself give Maul a long look, raising an eyebrow.

“That depends,” Maul finally said, eyes never leaving the screen, “Did they see us?”

“The older one didn't, no. I think the padawan recognized you though.” Maul narrowed his eyes where they were still glued to the terminal, aggressively typing something, then hitting the 'enter' key so hard Obi-Wan was surprised it didn't break.

“Then most likely, yes. ” Maul finally replied. He pulled a datacard out of his pocket, and pushed it into the slot on the terminal. Obi-Wan wasn't sure where exactly he'd been keeping it; his clothes left very little to the imagination. Maul stopped typing and straightened, taking a small step back from the terminal. They both watched a loading bar pop up, downloading whatever information they were here for onto the card. They stood in silence in the hallway, as the download crept closer and closer to completion.

It was about three-quarters done when the same feeling as before tugged at Obi-Wan. He focused on the end of the hallway they'd come from, listening intently. He heard the now-muffled sound of the party, but also the soft _'thump-thump'_ of boots approaching the bend. Obi-Wan tensed, straightening from his lean and glancing at Maul. He'd heard it too, and a look at the loading screen showed it had about ten percent left to go. _Is it the Jedi?_ Obi-Wan thought, _Or just a guard?_ Obi-Wan was reaching for his hidden blaster, sure it was going to be the Jedi, and subsequently an unavoidable fight, when Maul grabbed him.

He pulled Obi-Wan flush to his front, and fell back against the wall, the combination of their figures blocking the terminal from view of whoever was about to round the curve of the hallway. Maul grabbed the back of Obi-Wan's neck, tugging him into a bruising kiss with an almost painful grip. Obi-Wan flinched as their teeth knocked together, forced to bend down the few inches he had on Maul to avoid craning his neck. He settled the hand furthest from the terminal on Maul's lower back, tugging him closer, while his other hand hovered out of view, ready to grab his blaster. With the initial distance closed, Obi-Wan tried to direct the impromptu kiss into something less likely to get him bitten. Maul let him, then very deliberately bit his bottom lip. Obi-Wan hissed at the sudden pain, and felt Maul smirk.

Obi-Wan was distracted from his thoughts of retaliation by the sound of someone coming around the corner. The footsteps quickly stopped, presumably once they'd been spotted. Obi-Wan tried to pay attention, but this business of kissing Maul was proving to be more distracting than he'd thought. He did catch an aggravated sigh, and someone clearing their throat, then again more loudly when they weren't acknowledged the first time. Obi-Wan finally broke away, him and Maul both turning their heads to see an annoyed guard frowning at them both. When he tried to pull away more, he found himself stopped by a leg wrapped around his thigh (when had that happened?), and Maul's arm still hooked around his neck. A look at Maul revealed dilated pupils, and if he was blushing, Obi-Wan couldn't tell past the tattoos. He was sure that he wasn't as lucky. Nonetheless, he gave the guard his most charming ' _Why, I'm not doing anything suspicious at all,_ ' smile. The guard continued to frown.

“The party's back there, buddy,” he said, jabbing a thumb behind him back down the hallway, “And if you're that desperate, there's plenty 'a hotels around.” Obi-Wan felt Maul's free hand slip something into his pocket, and then the arm and leg holding him in place were removed. He straightened his shirt, and cleared his throat before chuckling amicably.

“Yes, of course, my apologies,” Obi-Wan grinned at the guard, wrapping his arm around Maul's waist again and leading them both back to the party. The guard followed them back, standing in the doorway while they merged back into the crowd. Leaned against him as he was, Obi-Wan felt Maul tense, and followed his gaze to where Grakkus sat on his dais. The Jedi was there, speaking calmly with the Hutt. His padawan had an anxious look on his face, a hand fisted on the back of his cloak. He wasn't paying any attention to the Hutt or the conversation, instead scanning the rest of the party. His eyes darted to the hallway in the completion of a repetitive circuit, and widened as they landed on Maul, who very deliberately didn't look at the Jedi or padawan.

“I feel we may have overstayed our welcome,” Obi-Wan murmured into Maul's ear as the padawan tugged at his master's cloak, turning to say something to the tall man. Maul just grunted in response, and they used their position at the edge of the crowd to quickly make their way to the exit. Maul paused at the beginning of the hallway, finally looking over his shoulder. Obi-Wan looked back as well, and found Maul and the Jedi locked in a staredown. The Jedi looked surprised at first, much like the padawan had, but it quickly hardened into a determined frown. Seeing as he and Maul were currently stock-still glaring at each other, Obi-Wan glanced at the padawan. He too was looking at Maul with grim determination, but at Obi-Wan's movement, turned his attention to him. Obi-Wan gave him another friendly grin, and the padawan just looked confused. Then Obi-Wan leaned down to speak to Maul.

“I believe it was at your insistence that we not cause a scene,” he reminded him, and Maul abruptly broke his staredown to glare at Obi-Wan instead. He just smiled serenely back, and used the hand at Maul's waist to lead them out of the party. Now that they were moving again, Maul quickened their pace, and after exiting Grakkus' building (though not without Obi-Wan giving a jaunty wave to Jax on their way out), led them around the corner to their speeder. Obi-Wan drove them through Nar Shaddaa, making sure to blend with the other speeders just in case. He chanced a look at Maul.

“So,” he started, “I'm sure there's an interesting story behind you getting on the bad side of a Jedi.” Maul was slumped in the passenger seat, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. He didn't even glance at Obi-Wan when he growled in reply. The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth quirked up as Maul's face contorted into something he'd probably get mauled ( _hah_ ) for calling a pout. Nothing out of the ordinary. Obi-Wan let the silence between them settle, and enjoyed the drive back to the ship.


	4. “He didn't know where he got that unlabeled bottle, but it packed quite a kick.” (Mistaken Identity AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Mistaken Identity AU, courtesy of a prompt from SLWalker

Once they'd restocked Maul's supplies, there wasn't much else to do besides wait. For all his Jedi training, Obi-Wan was starting to become restless. He'd progressed from meditating in the quarters Maul had given him, to practicing lightsaber forms, to wandering aimlessly through the common areas of the ship. He didn't see much of Maul, who seemed to keep odd hours, even for a man who presumably spent most of his time in space. Occasionally they'd be in the galley at the same time, or he'd pass through the common area while Obi-Wan was there, but he mostly seemed to split his time between the cockpit and his quarters. Obi-Wan wondered if this was normal, or a result of his presence on the ship. Either way, Maul's company was elusive, and conversation with him even moreso. 

A few days into the journey to Coruscant found Obi-Wan sitting in the galley, at a loss for what to do with himself. There wasn't much to occupy his time with, since he'd had to leave his ship without gathering his things from it. He'd bought a datapad when they'd stopped for supplies, but even for him there was only so much reading to be done, before you started to want to throw your datapad against the wall. His musings were cut short by the growling of his stomach. He set aside the game he'd been playing on his datapad, stretching languorously over the back of his chair. He stood, and opened a cabinet to survey his options with resignation.

Maul had made what was certainly the most economical decision when it came to stocking up on food. The ration bars he'd bought would keep for quite awhile, and contained all the nutrients required by a wide range of near-human species. While the food at the temple was hardly something you'd get at a five-star restaurant, it wasn't exactly hard to make anything more flavorful than a ration bar. Obi-Wan nonetheless grabbed one off the shelf, and was about to close the cabinet when something at the back caught his eye. Obi-Wan squinted through the darkness, and carefully reached in, grabbing whatever he'd seen and pulling it out. He looked at it for moment, puzzled.

It was a thick glass bottle with a screw-on lid, filled with some kind of thick, red liquid. A hand-written label proclaimed “HOT SAUCE” in bold, capital letters, and in one corner a future date was listed. Obi-Wan contemplated his options for a moment, gaze sliding between the bottle in one hand, and the bland ration bar in the other. He'd had traditional Zabrak food before, and while it was know to be on the spicier side for humans, it wasn't anything too terrible in his experience.  _ Anything is better than a plain ration bar, right? _ Obi-Wan thought. 

He crumbled the ration bar into a bowl like he usually did, adding the barest amount of water to soften the hard substance. Then he opened the bottle, giving it a cautious sniff. He felt his nose tingle from the heat, but the smell was pleasant and more than appetizing after the last few days of nothing but ration bars. So, very gingerly, Obi-Wan poured some into his bowl. Satisfied, he capped the bottle and set it aside on the counter, then stirred his bowl until everything was evenly mixed. He fixed a glass of water, and settled at the small table, finally lifting a spoonful and chewing it thoughtfully. Oh, that was  _ so _ much better.  _ This isn't too bad at all, _ Obi-Wan thought, swallowing and taking another bite. It was in the middle of chewing that second bite, that it hit him.

Suddenly, his mouth was on  _ fire _ . Obi-Wan spit out the mouthful mid-chew, helplessly breathing through his mouth to try and alleviate the burn. When that did nothing, he drank his glass of water in three large, desperate gulps, again to no effect. When Maul came in, it was to Obi-Wan hunched over the table, wheezing with tears streaming down his red face. He stared for a few moments, stunned. Alarmed, he frantically took in the scene; Obi-Wan at the table, the still mostly full bowl of ration bar in front of him. No sign of whatever had caused this. Then, his gaze darted to the countertop, where the bottle of hot sauce sat innocently. 

Understanding visibly dawned on Maul face as he stared at the bottle, before settling into incredulous resignation. A few swift strides took him to the counter, and he pulled a bottle of blue milk out of the small cold storage unit there. Maul helpfully unscrewed the cap, and held the bottle in Obi-Wan's line of sight. When the red-faced Jedi didn't seem to notice this, he sighed in aggravation.

“Drink this,” Maul ordered, voice terse, and Obi-Wan's still-watering eyes cracked open. Once his eyes focused on the bottle, he grabbed it, taking large gulps. Maul had the brief thought that he should stop him from drinking it too quickly, but soon Obi-Wan was setting the empty bottle down with a grateful sigh.

“Better?” Maul asked him, now leaning against the counter. He picked up the hot sauce, turning it over in his hands as Obi-Wan nodded.

“What in the Sith hells  _ is _ that?” Obi-Wan asked, distrustfully eyeing the bottle in Maul's hand. His voice was rough and scratchy, and he winced as he spoke. He scrubbed the tears from his face and eyes with a palm, as Maul gave him a flat look.

“This,” Maul told him, holding up the bottle in example, “Is my mother's hot sauce. You're lucky your throat didn't completely close up, this stuff isn't meant for humans.” Obi-Wan looked between him and the bottle in his hand in horror.

“Is your mother a  _ Krayt dragon? _ ” Obi-Wan rasped, and Maul stared contemplatively into the empty space behind Obi-Wan. 

“Could be,” Maul finally said, tone completely serious, “She's the wrong color though.” A look at Obi-Wan's baffled expression made his serious facade crack, and he let out a badly suppressed snort of laughter as his mouth quirked into a grin. Obi-Wan was stunned; he'd only seen Maul dour and serious in the three-odd days he'd known him, and was completely unprepared for the pleasant picture a smiling Maul created. Obi-Wan's face must have twisted into a truly hilarious expression, because Maul quickly devolved into shoulder-shaking snickers, curling in on himself ever-so-slightly, and pressing a fist to his mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to muffle the sound.

_ Oh, _ Obi-Wan thought, a funny feeling curling in his stomach as he watched Maul laugh.  _ Oh no. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That hot sauce is Granny Arzyn's secret family recipe.
> 
> The Arzyn family doesn't play around when it comes to hot sauce.


	5. "Those horns made surprisingly good handles, provided one was careful." (Assassin Obi-Wan AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from SLWalker, this time in the Assassin Obi-Wan AU

Obi-Wan stood in the dim, empty hallway, eyeing the crack of light shining under his door. He shifted the grocery bag in his hand, carefully examining the door's edges. When he found nothing unusual, he inspected the keypad for any kind of tampering. Again, he didn't find anything. The thin strip of light taunted him instead. When he'd left to restock on supplies (a generous term for what amounted to instant meals and off-brand soda), he'd followed his usual routine. Lights off, door locked, a very thin piece of flimsi wedged between the loose casing of the keypad and the wall, that fell if the keypad was used. And here he stood, with a light coming from his should-be-empty apartment, and a piece of flimsi poking out from under his boot.

When a quick scan of the hallway showed no one, Obi-Wan drew his blaster and entered the key code for his door. It smoothly opened, revealing his apartment's living room, just as he'd left it. Carefully, he stepped inside. It was one of the more spacious places he'd lived recently; the living room and kitchen were actually separate from the bedroom, rather than being all one space like the few before it. A dark bundle sitting on the couch drew his eye. He set his bag on the kitchen counter, then walked over to the couch, still watching the doors to the bedroom and 'fresher. They didn't open, but he could see light from under the latter's door.

Now that he was closer, he could see that it was less of a bundle, and more of a mass of fabric balled up, then haphazardly thrown in the general direction of his living room. Gingerly, Obi-Wan picked it up, already mostly certain as to what it was. Sure enough, it looked to be Maul's cloak, which probably meant it was Maul in his refresher. Obi-Wan let out a breath, the tension releasing from his shoulders, and re-holstered his blaster. He went to drape the cloak over the back of the seat, but first held it up to inspect it. The material was sturdy, and in a few spots he could see places where a rip or hole had been mended.  _ Those sleeves still seem impractical, _ Obi-Wan thought, giving the long and trailing bits of fabric an unimpressed look, then finally set the cloak back down. Now to go deal with his unexpected visitor.

“You know,” Obi-Wan said loud enough to be heard in the 'fresher, “It's usually considered to be  _ impolite _ , coming into someone's home without permission.” He pulled his groceries out of the bag, putting them away while he waited for a response. When he'd finished and still heard nothing, he stood directly in front of the 'fresher door.

“I'm beginning to think we need to have a discussion about personal boundaries –,” Obi-Wan began, hitting the switch to open the door, before his eyes widened at the sight that greeted him. “Force, what happened to  _ you? _ ” It was in fact Maul, who had technically broken in to his apartment, but it was the state of him that surprised Obi-Wan. He'd removed his tunic, presumably to tend to the myriad of small cuts littered over his upper-arms and shoulders. His face looked to have been mostly spared, but the sides of his head and neck were not. Maul didn't answer his question; he just growled under his breath, and went back to pulling a tiny shard of glass out of a cut on one of his arms, features set in a determined grimace.

Obi-Wan leaned against the doorway, and gave Maul a once over now that he was past the initial shock of his appearance. The cuts seemed mostly superficial, and it looked like Maul had taken care of what was on his chest and arms already, judging by the lack of blood there. The wounds on his head, neck, and shoulders were still slowly oozing blood. Obi-Wan looked at the small bottle of bacta and the soaked cotton swab on the counter, then tried to meet Maul's gaze through the mirror.

“Would you like some help?” Obi-Wan asked. Maul's eyes darted up to look at him, then back down to where he was dabbing bacta on a cut.

“I'm fine,” he growled, and Obi-Wan couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Why bother breaking into my apartment if you're not even going to let me help?”

“It was closer,” Maul said, voice curt and matter-of-fact. Obi-Wan gave him a long-suffering look.

“And how, exactly, were you planning on reaching all these ones on your back?” Maul let out an aggravated growl, and threw the now-bloody swab he'd been using down into the sink. It landed with an unimpressive wet ' _ slap _ ', and Maul glared at it as if it had offended him personally. 

“ _ Fine, _ ” Maul growled, leaning forward and bracing his palms on either side of the sink. “As long as it gets you to be  _ quiet, _ ” he grumbled under his breath. Obi-Wan smirked victoriously, pretending not to hear that last bit.

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan said, “Wait here.” He walked out of the 'fresher, and a few moments later returned with a pair of plain stools from the kitchen. He sat on one, then patted the seat of the other invitingly. Maul huffed, but sat down the indicated seat nonetheless. Obi-Wan examined the cuts over the back of his neck and shoulders critically. Most of them seemed to be free of glass, but a few had noticeable shards in them. He grabbed the tweezers Maul had been using, and began carefully extracting them.

“So really, what happened?” Obi-Wan asked, “You look like you dove face-first through a window.” He got the feeling Maul wanted to tense his shoulders, but stopped himself. Instead, he hissed a single word.

“ _ Jinn, _ ” he practically spat, and it took Obi-Wan a moment to process and connect the dots.

“The Jedi from Grakkus' party?” Obi-Wan asked. He'd done some research after witnessing the clear animosity between Maul and the other man. There was nothing in what he'd found that told him why they seemed to hate each other, but that just meant it probably wasn't something known to the general public. It was obviously serious if Maul's condition was any indication. He would probably be able to figure it out if he knew what all his jobs for Maul were working towards, but his employer had been tight-lipped on the matter. In response to his question, Maul nodded.

“What exactly happened to make the two of you attack each other on sight?” Obi-Wan put the last shard of glass into the trashcan, and moved on to cleaning and dabbing bacta on the cuts. Maul didn't reply this time, and silence surrounded them as Obi-Wan worked. He finished and threw away the swab, lightly tapping one of Maul's elbows.

“Alright, turn around, I might as well get the ones on your head and neck too,” Obi-Wan announced. He was a little surprised when Maul did so without complaint, settling back onto the stool once he'd turned to face him. Obi-Wan looked at the cuts that he could see for glass, thankfully finding none.

“Here, turn your head – no, not  _ that _ way, just –,” Obi-Wan muttered, and then without thinking reached up, hooking a finger around the base of a horn on the front of Maul's head, using it to arrange him. Maul looked stunned at his forwardness, but allowed himself to be turned. Obi-Wan paused once he'd completed the motion, surprised himself. He quickly moved on though, and checked the cuts that were scattered up the side of Maul's head, and the few on his neck. When they all proved to be glass free, he used the same hand, still hooked around Maul's horn, to turn him the other way, repeating the process. He didn't find any glass there either, so he grabbed another swab and got to work.

_ His horns make surprisingly good handles, _ Obi-Wan thought, using his hold on one to tilt Maul's head back, giving him access to a cut just under his chin. Maul hissed at the sting, tensing up from being in such a vulnerable position.  _ As long as I'm careful, _ Obi-Wan amended, tugging Maul back into a more comfortable position once he'd finished. Maul's hands relaxed where they'd clenched in the fabric of his pants, and Obi-Wan dabbed bacta on the last of the cuts.

“There, all done,” Obi-Wan announced, turning his head to throw away the swab. When he looked back, he realized just how close he and Maul were. He'd been subconsciously leaning forward to look at the cuts, and as a result there were only a few scant inches between their noses. Obi-Wan found himself pinned in place by Maul's unnaturally bright eyes, so much more intense for being so close. Then he realized he still had his finger wrapped around Maul's horn. Maul said nothing, just stared intently at him. For a few long moments that felt like an eternity, neither of them moved.

Instead of letting go, which would probably be the reasonable thing to do, Obi-Wan experimentally applied the slightest amount of pressure, as if he was pulling Maul forward. Once again, Maul let himself be moved, leaning further into Obi-Wan's space. There was another pause, which was doubtlessly shorter, but felt somehow even longer to Obi-Wan, before he leaned in the rest of the way. His lips met Maul's, and Obi-Wan's mind fumbled over where to put his other hand, before settling it over Maul's own, still resting on his knee. 

This kiss was much different from the one on Nar Shaddaa; the only thing he could hear was his own pulse beating in his ears, and the ambient background noises of his apartment. When Maul bit his bottom lip this time, it was gentle, and Obi-Wan hummed appreciatively into the kiss. There was none of the tension or urgency from before, just the each of them languidly moving against the other. Eventually, they both slowly pulled back, just enough to breath and look at each other. Obi-Wan felt a little dazed looking at Maul's eyes again; his pupils were blown wide, leaving a thin ring of bright gold and that odd sunburst pattern around the edge. 

They stared at each other again for a moment, breathing heavy. Then Maul's gaze darted down to Obi-Wan's mouth, and they were off again, nearly bumping noses as they both leaned back in. Obi-Wan pulled at Maul's horn in an attempt to get them impossibly closer, and an odd, quiet rumble rolled in Maul's chest.  _ I don't think I've ever heard something like that before, _ Obi-Wan thought absently. Then he promptly stopped thinking, as one of Maul's hands found it's way into his hair, giving it a light tug. The last truly coherent he would remember later was something along the lines of ' _ Oh, that's nice, _ ' when Maul brought his other hand up and cupped his jaw. 

This state of affairs went on for awhile, before they were forced to part by their lungs' demands for air. Obi-Wan could  _ feel _ how flushed his face was, and Maul wasn't much better off. Even though his coloration hid any blush he might have, the expression on his face combined with his slightly swollen lips told the entire story anyway. It seemed they were back to staring again, as they both caught their breath. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something, then had to clear his throat when his vocal cords refused to work.

“Well,” he started, and when it came out clearly, he continued with more confidence, “No sense staying in here on these uncomfortable stools.” They really weren't very comfortable. Him and Maul seemed to realize at the same time that they were still practically wrapped around each other, and simultaneously pulled away. Maul stood first, scooping up his discarded tunic and striding out of the 'fresher. Obi-Wan picked the stools up and followed him, returning them to their proper place in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, he watched Maul as he worked on straightening his clothes, his gloves still off and now lying on the coffee table. 

Obi-Wan suddenly felt awkward; what did you say to the man you'd been hired, and failed, to kill, subsequently been hired by, and then made-out with for what felt like a solid hour? Obi-Wan considered himself to be an experienced adult, but this entire situation felt very out of his depth. By now Maul was finished with his tunic, and stared at his cloak in consideration, still draped over the couch. Coming to some conclusion, he sat down, now facing Obi-Wan in what was beginning to be an awkward silence.

“Would you like something to drink?” Obi-Wan offered, unsure. He was usually much better at this kind of thing, but his past experience of one-night stands with strangers he never planned to see again was a much different situation than this. Maul gave the question some serious thought, and it took a moment for him to answer.

“... Yes,” he finally said, his voice back to it's usual quiet intensity. The familiarity of it slowed Obi-Wan's racing thoughts, and he grabbed two bottles of water before walking over to Maul. He handed it to Maul, then sat on the couch next to him, taking a long drink. Next to him, Maul took a sip of his own bottle. They sat in silence, which now just felt comfortable instead of awkward. Eventually, both their bottles were empty, and Maul stood up. He pulled on his gloves and cloak, and Obi-Wan stood as well, following Maul to the door. He opened it, and Maul paused just outside the threshold to the apartment. Looking back at Obi-Wan with an indecipherable expression. 

Obi-Wan half-expected some kind of rebuff, a dismissal of what had happened, or even a threat. What he  _ didn't _ expect was Maul grabbing a fistful of his shirt at the neck, tugging him down, and kissing him soundly. He pulled away, and must have found whatever he'd been looking for in Obi-Wan's no doubt dazed expression, because he gave the smallest of nods, almost to himself, and released him. Then Maul turned on his heel and walked away. Obi-Wan watched him go until he disappeared around a corner.

_ Alright then, _ Obi-Wan thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my mental picture of Obi-Wan for the last bit of this is just that confused Zac Efron meme


	6. Coda – Padawan Skywalker (Assassin Obi-Wan AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padawan Anakin's POV during the last two Assassin Obi-Wan AU prompts, so not technically obimaul, but it is obimaul adjacent :V  
> guess I gotta go add Qui-Gon and Anakin to the cast list

Anakin _knew_ he was in trouble. Master Qui-Gon hadn't said anything yet, but he wasn't even supposed to be on the ship, much less on Nar Shaddaa. What was he _supposed_ to do though? Stay behind at the temple and go to class while his master went to one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy? Not that Qui-Gon needed protecting, he was the _last_ person Anakin could think of that needed it. Anakin was also sure that he'd only been ordered to stay behind because everyone thought he couldn't help. He was already twelve after all, he wasn't a baby anymore!

But when Qui-Gon had found Anakin hiding in the ship's fresher halfway to Nar Shaddaa, all of his justifications seemed insufficient in the face of his master's stormy expression. Qui-Gon had sat him down and given him a very thorough lecture on a whole laundry list of things that Anakin hadn't even realized Qui-Gon had noticed. Anakin was sure that when they got back, he wouldn't be seeing the outside of the temple for a solid year. Finally, Qui-Gon sighed and rubbed his temples.

“Do you understand why I'm upset with you, Anakin?” he asked, sounding tired. Anakin nodded contritely, still looking down at the floor. After a few moments of silence, he peeked up at the his master from under his eyelashes. Back on Tattooine, this exact expression had earned him extra food at the market, and had continued to serve him well once he'd been taken to the temple. Qui-Gon's expression softened ever so slightly, and he laid a gentle hand on Anakin's shoulder.

“I suppose it's too late to take you back now. You'll just have to stay with me,” Qui-Gon said, then his countenance turned gravely serious. “You are to do _exactly_ as I say Anakin, without question, and stay with me at all times. Nar Shaddaa is no place for a padawan.” Anakin nodded enthusiastically, his face splitting into an excited grin.

“Yes master!” he said, and followed Qui-Gon into the cockpit.

 

* * *

 

Nar Shaddaa was somehow similar to and completely different from Coruscant at the same time. Neither were anything like Tattooine or Naboo, but Anakin had expected that. He didn't even protest his master's hold on his hand, he was so distracted taking in the sights. Much like Coruscant, Nar Shaddaa didn't seem to sleep, and the traffic around them felt unending. Shortly after landing, Qui-Gon had acquired a speeder for them, and Anakin dared peeking over the edge to watch the lanes below them, reaching into the depths of the moon. At a pointed word from Qui-Gon, he settled back in his seat, and before he knew it they were landing.

Here, the roar of traffic was background noise, and the crowd much thinner. Qui-Gon didn't grab his hand this time, and Anakin remembered his earlier warning. He stuck close to his master's side and kept his head down. Two years was a long time, but Anakin didn't think he'd ever forget his life on Tattooine; how the right look at the wrong person got you a black eye, or worse. Now that he wasn't a slave, he didn't have that layer of protection from the average person, who couldn't afford the cost of paying damages to his owner. _But,_ Anakin thought, stealing a look up at Qui-Gon, and palming the lightsaber at his own belt, _I've got something better now._ Qui-Gon noticed his attention, and gave him a reassuring smile. Anakin grinned back, and they kept walking.

Eventually, they turned down a side street, walking up to a large building. There were guards at the door, a pair of them on either side, and a third one in full armor in the middle. A pair of people were talking to the armored one, who looked over a datapad, then nodded and stepped aside. The doors opened, then closed behind the pair once they'd entered, and the guard in what Anakin now recognized as Mandalorian armor stepped back in front of it. Qui-Gon approached with confidence, his cloak flowing behind him dramatically. The Mandalorian turned their attention to him once they were closer, the blank face of their helmet revealing nothing.

“It is imperative that I speak with your employer, Grakkus the Hutt,” Qui-Gon announced without preamble, his arms crossed inside his cloak in what Anakin had come to call his 'authoritative pose'. The Mandalorian's helmet tilted a few degrees to the side, and the guards on either side of him glanced at each other.

“Well, unless your name's on the list, you'll have to talk to the him another time,” the Mandalorian's voice came smoothly through the helmet's speakers, and his shoulders subtly squared up. Qui-Gon was unimpressed, and raised an eyebrow.

“I'm sure your employer would be displeased to find out you turned away an opportunity concerning his collection,” Qui-Gon replied. The other guards looked a little nervous and shifted on their feet, while the Mandalorian gave Qui-Gon a look, indecipherable behind the helmet. He typed something into the datapad, and after a moment, it made a pinging noise, indicating an incoming message. He stared at the datapad, and when he finally spoke, it was with a note of annoyance in his otherwise professional demeanor.

“You're in luck, Grakkus doesn't usually take _solicitors,_ ” he said pointedly, tapping something on the screen as he stepped aside. The doors opened, and Qui-Gon gave him a polite nod before walking through, Anakin close on his heels. He heard the Mandalorian huff and mutter something under his breath as they passed, but it was too quiet for him to hear. The hall they'd walked into was large, with glossy stone floors and walls. It wasn't as large as the ones in the Jedi temple, but unlike the temple, it flaunted the wealth that Grakkus had put into it. Anakin gawked at the opulence; it wasn't anything like the palace on Naboo, the only comparable structure he'd seen, but it was impressive nonetheless.

The hall was long though, and when they finally reached the end, Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. The room they entered was large, and filled with people. Anakin felt Qui-Gon's hand grab his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on him as his master led them into the throng. The crowd pressed in on all sides, and Anakin craned his neck to see past the sea of taller adults. He caught glimpses of pedestals scattered around, some with small geometric objects, others with old physical books, and even a few with lightsabers. It was as Anakin was following the line of a carving set into a wall that the crowd parted, and he saw two people standing in a doorway.

They were facing away from him, clearly in the process of going through. The taller one, a human man with a reddish-brown beard and hair, was looking over his shoulder, and met Anakin's eye. A feeling pulled at Anakin, and he glanced at the other person. He could only see the back of their head, black and red skinned and topped with horns, and he puzzled at the nagging feeling he knew them. His mind finally supplied the connection, and he nearly stopped breathing, remembering the Zabrak from Tattooine, and later from Naboo. The memory of Qui-Gon fighting him, the fear of him losing, of the Zabrak coming for him and Padmé next, made him freeze.

His eyes darted back to the other man. He gave Anakin a disarmingly friendly grin and a jaunty wave. _What?_ Anakin thought, then the crowd moved, and his view of them both was cut off. Qui-Gon, who hadn't noticed any of this, too busy trying to find a path through the sea of people, tugged him forward as an opening presented itself. Anakin could only let himself be pulled forward, mind still reeling. They were somewhere in the middle of the crowd when he finally snapped out of it, tugging urgently on Qui-Gon's cloak.

“ _Master Qui-Gon!_ ” Anakin hissed over the noise of the people around them. Qui-Gon only paid him half a mind, still pushing a path through.

“What is it, Anakin?” he asked, wedging a foot between to groups of people, smoothly inserting himself in between them so the space widened enough for him to pass, pulling Anakin along with him.

“I saw him! _The Sith!_ ” Anakin said, still tugging on Qui-Gon's cloak. His master's head whipped around to look at him, then he scanned the room, following Anakin's pointed finger to the hallway he'd seen. Qui-Gon's height meant he easily saw over most people's heads, and when he didn't see anyone, he gave the whole room another cursory scan.

“Are you sure, Anakin?” he finally asked, not unkind but gravely serious. Anakin just nodded mutely, a lump in his throat. Qui-Gon's hand gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and pulled him closer. “Don't worry Anakin,” he said softly, “I won't let anything happen to you.” Anakin looked at his boots, nodded, and took a deep breath, trying to let go of his feelings like Qui-Gon had taught him. It didn't really work, but it calmed him down a little. He kept his hold on Qui-Gon when they started moving again, and soon they reached the other side of the room.

There, on a raised dais, sat a Hutt. Anakin figured it was probably the “Grakkus” person his master had mentioned earlier. He didn't pay much attention to the conversation that took place, instead standing mostly behind Qui-Gon, scanning the rest of the room from this new vantage point. Entryway, crowd, doorway, repeat. Anxiety made his stomach churn, but Qui-Gon's familiar, soothing voice in the background, discussing some business with Grakkus, calmed it. It sounded like the conversation was beginning to lull, and his master sighed with a note of frustration. Anakin wasn't paying any attention now though, focused entirely on the two figures walking towards the entryway. For a few seconds he was still, as the Zabrak and the human with him walked at the edge of the crowd. Then he was yanking his fistful of Qui-Gon's cloak, turning to face him.

“ _Master!_ ” he whispered urgently, and Qui-Gon looked at him in confusion for a split-second, before he looked up and spotted them too. Despite being prepared, he seemed surprised to actually see the Sith, who had stopped at the entryway to look over his shoulder. He met Qui-Gon's gaze, and they both stood very still, eyes locked in an intense glare. Anakin drew himself up and put on his fiercest expression, frowning at the Sith. Then the man standing next to him moved, and Anakin's eyes darted away from the Sith to watch him instead. He hadn't actually moved, Anakin realized what he had seen was him turning his head, and Anakin found himself receiving another friendly grin, much like earlier.

Anakin felt his face twist in confusion. The man, still smiling, leaned down, saying something into the Zabrak's ear. Whatever it was, it made him turn to glare up at the taller man instead of at Qui-Gon. The man just smiled wider, and with a hand at the small of the Sith's back, led them into the entryway and out of sight. Anakin looked up at Qui-Gon, who stared with a furrowed brow at the now empty space. Then he let out a heavy breath, and looked down at Anakin. He gave him a tired attempt at a reassuring smile, settling one big hand on Anakin's back, between his shoulders.

“It's alright, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, and began leading him back through the crowd. Anakin followed, frowning in confusion.

“But master, what about the Sith?” he asked. The crowd was only a little easier to move through this time around.

“He'll be long gone by the time we get through this crowd,” Qui-Gon told him, “We were not his target, or he wouldn't have even let himself be seen.” Anakin nodded, not that Qui-Gon had been looking to see it.

“Who was that man with him?” Anakin wondered aloud, as they broke free from the crowd. Qui-Gon hummed in thought, walking down the hallway back to the doors.

“I do not know, Padawan, but I'm sure we'll find out,” he finally answered. They passed the Mandalorian and the two guards, who watched them walk back to the main street. After that, Qui-Gon took them straight back to the ship, and soon they were on their way back to Coruscant.

 

* * *

 

It was only a few weeks later that Anakin saw the Sith again.

He was with his master, in one of the more run-down neighborhoods in mid-level Coruscant. Qui-Gon had apparently been coming to this shop to buy tea since _he_ was a padawan. Anakin didn't really see the appeal of tea, and was bored out of his mind by the trip. Usually, he took any excuse to get out of the temple and see more of Coruscant, but he would have gladly stayed behind to practice meditation with master Yoda. He _hated_ meditation with master Yoda, but even that was sounding more interesting than listening to Qui-Gon talk with the shopkeeper about different types of tea.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long time, Qui-Gon bought what he'd come for. Anakin heaved a sigh of relief, following him out of the shop, while Qui-Gon gave him an amused look from the corner of his eye.

“You were very patient, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, and Anakin nodded absently, taking in the variety of people walking around them. “I think you deserve a reward,” Qui-Gon continued, and Anakin's excited face whirled around to look at him.

“Really?!” Anakin nearly shouted, then flushed and cleared his throat, repeating himself more softly. “Really?” Qui-Gon closed his eyes, rubbing his bearded chin in thought.

“Hmmm... Yes, I think so,” he finally said, “So what would you like for your reward, young one?” The possibilities stretched out before him, and Anakin's mind tripped over itself, trying to focus on just one. They walked while he thought, Qui-Gon watching his concentrating face with a small smile. They turned a corner, neither paying much attention to what was in front of them; Anakin lost in thought, and Qui-Gon confident from his frequent trips to the area. Neither noticed the figure who'd turned the corner coming the other way, their eyes lowered and focus turned inward.

There was a fraction of a second, where Qui-Gon and the figure both realized they were about to run into each other, but there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. The figure's forehead cracked painfully into Qui-Gon's chin, and they both stumbled backwards, dazed. Then all three of them froze, as not two feet from Qui-Gon and Anakin stood the Sith. They stared at each other, surprised, and for a moment everything was still. Then Qui-Gon was drawing his lightsaber, pulling Anakin back and behind him. The Sith drew his own saberstaff, the glow of it's dual red blades sinister, and at that he and Qui-Gon were locking blades.

Anakin's lightsaber hilt was in his hand, still unlit, and he distantly registered the people around them crying out in alarm and running. Qui-Gon and the Sith fought, neither gaining ground, while Anakin anxiously shifted his weight from foot to foot from the sidelines. Suddenly the Sith snarled something at Qui-Gon, and feinted a strike, instead raising the hilt of his saberstaff and smashing it into the bridge of Qui-Gon's nose. He stumbled back, and Anakin could see that he wouldn't recover in time to block the next attack. So as Qui-Gon backed up, nearly losing his balance, Anakin jumped in, his lightsaber ignited and barely blocking the Sith's strike.

The Sith seemed surprised, and Anakin was able to push him back a step. He easily blocked everything Anakin could think to throw at him, both their blades whirling. Faster than he could see, the Sith twisted Anakin's saber out of his hands, and he dropped it as the Sith planted a boot in the middle of his chest, knocking the breath out of him and sending him to the ground. Anakin felt like time had slowed down, as he looked up at the Sith, on his back with his lightsaber out of his reach. Their eyes met, and Anakin didn't know what he saw there, but it wasn't the same burning hatred he remembered from Naboo.

Then time resumed, and the Sith went flying backwards with a surprised shout, crashing through a shop window. Anakin stared after him, stunned, then Qui-Gon was pulling him to his feet. His master quickly looked him over, searching for injuries. When he was satisfied, he gave Anakin a quick pat on the shoulder, and then he was jumping through the broken window and into the shop. It took a moment for his brain to catch up, but Anakin realized Qui-Gon must have force-pushed the Sith to get him away from Anakin. Numbly, he looked around, and after spotting it, Anakin picked up his lightsaber with shaking hands.

When he didn't hear the sounds of a fight from the shop, he cautiously walked over, peeking through the broken window. It was empty. Anakin stared at the shards of glass that now littered the floor of the shop. It looked like it was some kind of restaurant, though thankfully it seemed like it wasn't open. Qui-Gon suddenly came sweeping in from a door at the back, and Anakin nearly jumped.

“He's gone,” Qui-Gon said, climbing back through the window to stand beside Anakin. His nose was bleeding, and from the sound of his voice, broken. A bruise was already forming on the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, but Qui-Gon only fixed a concerned gaze on him.

“I'm okay,” Anakin insisted when Qui-Gon opened his mouth, his voice unconvincing. Instead of saying something, Qui-Gon pulled Anakin against him, rubbing his back soothingly. Anakin leaned into his master, listening as he pulled out his comm and started speaking to someone. _Probably the council,_ Anakin thought. He focused on doing the deep breathing exercises Qui-Gon had taught him for nightmares, his heart still racing, and buried his face in Qui-Gon's robes. Qui-Gon let him, the hand at his back only pulling him closer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up being longer than I was expecting it to, so I figure I'm just bad at judging how long things are gonna be lmao


	7. Maul is Obi-Wan's hired body guard. (Senator Obi-Wan AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new AU, because I gotta live up to that "like so many" tag
> 
> Set during the Clone Wars, Maul's not a Sith and Obi-Wan's not a Jedi.

Maul scanned the Coruscant skyline through the window, and though it wouldn't seem like it to the untrained eye, listened closely to the argument between his employer and the Jedi at the other side of the room. The senator's voice had yet to raise above a polite level, but there was no disguising the steeliness of his tone.

“I understand your position, Master Jedi,” Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi said, “But I would like to remind you, I am well within my rights to hire my own security personnel, regardless of your assignment to protect Senator Amidala and I.” Through the reflection, Maul saw the Jedi open his mouth, presumably to continue arguing. Before he could, Obi-Wan cut back in.

“I'm sure you're fully capable of coordinating with non-Jedi, based on what I've heard of your exploits on the battlefield. If you find that to be beyond your abilities, perhaps I should inform the Order?” he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow. The Jedi's jaw snapped shut with an audible click. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and opening them again once he'd exhaled.

“That won't be necessary, Senator,” he ground out, “My padawan and I will manage,” at this, Maul found himself on the receiving end of a measuring look. Obi-Wan nodded, satisfied with this response.

“Excellent, then good day to you, Master Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said, returning to his seat behind his desk. Skywalker had an almost sour look on his face, but nodded anyway.

“Good day, Senator,” Skywalker replied almost grudgingly, turning on his heel and nearly stomping out of the office. Once the door closed behind him, Obi-Wan let out a heavy sigh, slumping back in his chair. Maul returned to the corner he'd claimed for himself, leaning with a view of both the door, the windows, and Obi-Wan at his desk, as he'd been before Skywalker's arrival. Obi-Wan ran his gaze over a datapad a few times, before he gave up and turned to Maul. He looked like he was about to say something, but when Maul waited silently he seemed to change his mind, and went back to the datapad still in his hand.

For awhile, the room was silent, aside from the sound of typing. Then a light from the band on Maul's wrist flashed, and he checked the small display. Moments later, the intercom on Obi-Wan's desk activated, and the voice of Obi-Wan's secretary came through.

“Senator Kenobi, Senator Amidala is here to see you,” they said, and Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his face.

“Of course, send her in,” he said, his voice betraying none of the fatigue Maul could see on his face. The intercom deactivated, and Obi-Wan schooled his features once more, rearranging the datapads on his desk. A few minutes passed, and then the door was sliding open, Padmé Amidala striding through in one of her usual ensembles. Much like Obi-Wan, she was visibly tired, but the front she put up to mask it was very convincing. Obi-Wan rose to greet her, and they briefly embraced once he'd come around the desk.

“Padmé, it's good to see you. Though I have the feeling this isn't a social visit?” he asked once they'd separated. Padmé gave him a smile, but shook her head.

“No, Obi-Wan, it isn't,” then she gave him a concerned frown, “I just spoke with our Jedi guard, and he seems to think you don't want the protection that the Jedi have offered.” Obi-Wan leaned against the front of his desk, and was lost in thought for a moment. Padmé took a seat in one of the chairs kept there for guests, her eyes darting to Maul, assessing his presence. Maul just stared back, expression professional and reserved. Obi-Wan began to speak, and Padmé's gaze was drawn back to him.

“I know that you trust the Jedi, Padmé, and I'm not saying you're wrong to,” he hastily added at the look on Padmé's face, “But you knew of my reservations regarding the Order even before this war started. Now, they're the ones directly in command of the people we're trying to help with this bill, and I can't help but be suspicious of how readily they accepted command of an army, considering how they've represented themselves in the past.” Padmé looked like she wanted to argue, but took a second to gather her thoughts.

“You're right, Obi-Wan,” she finally said, “If I hadn't had the experience with the Jedi that I have, I'd be suspicious of them too. And I believe that once you understand more about them, you'll understand why I trust them, and maybe you will too,” she finished, complete confidence in every word. Obi-Wan smiled at her, and crossed his ankles, arranging himself more comfortably on the edge of his desk.

“Well, I certainly hope so. I could do with one less thing to worry about,” Obi-Wan joked. Padmé allowed herself a chuckle.

“We all could,” she said, and stood up. “Now, I know for a fact you've been cooped up in here all morning. How does lunch sound, before we start working on this bill?” Obi-Wan hummed, straightening and stretching with an audible _'pop'_ from his back.

“That sounds lovely, actually. Though,” and at this, he looked back at Maul, silent and unmoved from where he was leaning, “I don't suppose you had someplace specific in mind?”

“I was thinking we'd order in, and eat in my office. By the time we're done with this bill, you're going to be sick of me,” Padmé teased. Obi-Wan put a hand to his chest, miming offense.

“ Senator Amidala, how could _anyone_ tire of your delightful company? Certainly not someone with any sense!” he said dramatically, offering her his elbow. Padmé laughed and took it, letting him lead her out of his office.

“Of course, how silly of me,” she said as they walked down the hall, Maul following close behind.

 

* * *

  


Maul wanted to bash his head against the wall. Obi-Wan and Padmé were tolerable, and he'd honestly worked in worse conditions than listening to the two senators visit over lunch. The Jedi, Skywalker? He had done little else but eye both him and Obi-Wan suspiciously, breaking from this only to make some scathing comment. Maul had noticed, however, that each time he did so, Padmé would shoot him a look from over Obi-Wan's shoulder, and the behavior would, for however brief a time, cease.

Now that Maul thought about it more, most of Skywalker's reaction's were to Obi-Wan's familiarity with Padmé. Maul knew Obi-Wan well enough to understand that what most people might construe as the senator being flirtatious, was in fact just how he was. It had thrown Maul the first time he'd been in a casual setting with the man, because when he or Maul were 'on the clock', he was nothing but professional. It was also clear, at least to Maul, that Padmé knew this too, because she was completely at ease. Each time Skywalker muttered some sullen comment, and Padmé in turn shot him a chastising look, Maul became more certain of his suspicions.

 _Just what I need,_ Maul thought, _A jealous Jedi that probably has it out for Obi-Wan now._

Thankfully, the senators finished their lunch and started actually working, which went much more smoothly. Padmé and Obi-Wan both slipped into 'senator mode' almost immediately, and watching them work was impressive. Maul was glad Obi-Wan had hired him, because Skywalker spent half the time watching Amidala with a love-struck expression. He couldn't fathom how the Jedi thought he was being at all subtle. Without any interruptions, the time passed quickly, and soon Obi-Wan and Padmé were wrapping up. They left together, Skywalker leading the way and Maul bringing up the rear. Skywalker's padawan, a Togrutan girl, fell into step with the senators as they exited Padmé's office.

Before too long, they came to the point where the group would split, Obi-Wan's apartment in one direction and Padmé's in the other. The two of them said their goodbyes, while Maul and the Jedi scanned the surrounding area.

“Alright. Ahsoka, you'll go with Senator Kenobi. I'll stay with Senator Amidala,” Skywalker said, and when Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, he added, “This isn't up for debate, Senator.” Obi-Wan looked annoyed for a moment, before settling his face into a pleasant smile for Ahsoka's benefit.

“I'm sure that your presence won't be necessary, but I'll do my best to be a gracious host, Padawan Tano.” She gave him a slightly unsure smile back, and with a final goodbye, the group split.

It didn't take long to reach Obi-Wan's apartment. While they rode the lift up, Maul pressed a few buttons on his wristband, reading something on the display. Ahsoka watched him curiously, but didn't say anything. When they reached the apartment, Maul stepped out first, holding a hand up to stop them from following.

“Wait here with the Senator,” he told Ahsoka.

“What –,” she started, but Maul had already disappeared into the darkness of the apartment. Ahsoka frowned but stood with Obi-Wan, taking a moment to focus on the apartment with the Force. She felt Obi-Wan beside her, a glowing ember, and Maul moving through the apartment, his presence a dim flame. She didn't feel anyone else in the apartment, and less than a minute later the lights came on, revealing Maul standing beside a switch at the other end of the entryway.

“Alright,” he said, and then moved into one of the other rooms. Beside her, Obi-Wan removed the heavy outer layer of his senatorial robes, hanging it in a closet by the door. Not quite sure what to do with herself, Ahsoka followed him into the room Maul had entered, which turned out to be a spacious living area. Maul stood in an attached kitchen, looking through an open cabinet.

“Please, Padawan Tano, have a seat,” Obi-Wan said, waving to one of the couches as he walked into the kitchen. Maul had found whatever it was he had been looking for, and they maneuvered around each other without a thought.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, opening the refrigerator.

“Oh, no, thank you Senator, I'm alright,” Ahsoka answered, settling onto a couch cushion. Obi-Wan chuckled softly, pulling out a bottle of juice.

“There's no need to be so formal, really, you can call me Obi-Wan,” he said, pouring the juice into a glass. Ahsoka seemed surprised, and was quiet for a moment.

“Then you can call me Ahsoka, instead of 'Padawan Tano'.” Obi-Wan nodded, smiling at her. Then he looked at Maul, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, eating while he watched them. Obi-Wan stared at him, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Did you not have lunch?” Obi-Wan frowned. Maul hummed instead of replying, mouth still full. “I'm sorry Maul, I should have realized,” Obi-Wan insisted, and Maul only shrugged one shoulder at him, continuing to eat. Seeing this line of conversation would go nowhere, Obi-Wan turned back to Ahsoka.

“Are you hungry, Ahsoka?” he asked, already pulling out two bowls.

“Oh, no, I'm okay,” Ahsoka tried to dissuade him, but he was already fixing more of whatever Maul was eating. Maul's face didn't change at all, but she could see the amusement at the situation in his eyes.

“There we are,” Obi-Wan said when he brought her a bowl, “Can't have your master saying I'm starving you.” They ate in comfortable silence, and when he was done, Obi-Wan carried his bowl back into the kitchen. He stretched, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

“Well, if you'll excuse me, I should get some sleep. There's a guest room you can use, Ahsoka, and the bathroom's right there,” Obi-Wan pointed out two doors on the other side of the entryway. He waited for her to nod in understanding, then went through a third door at the very end of the hallway. It closed with a nearly soundless ' _click_ '. Now it was just her and Maul. He'd finished his food, but still leaned against the counter, watching her with an unreadable expression. Ahsoka drummed her fingers against her knees, searching for something to say in the face of Maul's unblinking stare. She wished that Master Qui-Gon was here, but while her and Anakin had been given the task of protecting the senators, he had his own mission off-world.

“So, you and Senator Kenobi seem to know each other pretty well,” Ahsoka offered tentatively. Maul blinked like he was coming out of thought, and considered what she'd said for a moment.

“I suppose that's one way of putting it,” he said vaguely, a corner of his mouth briefly twitching upwards. She almost missed it, as soon as the movement had been completed his face smoothing once more. “You should get some rest,” he finally said, after long seconds of silence had passed. Ahsoka felt her brows draw together as she frowned, and when she went to protest Maul raised a hand in a placating motion.

“I only mean that it's unnecessary for _either_ of us to go without sleep. I've already made additions to the senator's already robust security system, and it will alert us if anything is amiss,” Ahsoka looked like she still wanted to argue, and he continued, “You'll be more useful tomorrow if you're fully rested. If what I know of the Jedi is to be believed, then your senses will wake you if anything is wrong.” She thought long and hard about it, and couldn't come up with an argument that wasn't just her being stubborn. So she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Okay. That makes sense,” Ahsoka said quietly, standing from her seat on the couch. She looked down at the now-empty bowl in her hands, then carried it into the kitchen, setting it in the sink next to Maul and Obi-Wan's. She stopped at the bedroom door Obi-Wan had pointed out earlier, and looked over her shoulder at Maul. He briefly glanced away from where he was looking out the living room windows, and gave her a nod before he turned back. Suddenly feeling the exhaustion she'd been pushing away, Ahsoka fumbled to remove her boots and belt before falling onto the bed. Her boots fell over each other on the floor at the foot of the bed, and her belt was placed on the nightstand, commlink and lightsaber still attached.

She was already half-asleep when the question of where Maul would sleep came to her. Ahsoka hadn't remembered seeing another door that might lead to a guestroom. _He probably sleeps here usually,_ Ahsoka thought, and felt a little bad for essentially banishing Maul to the couch. _I'll just make him take the bed next time..._ she thought, drifting off.

 

* * *

  


Ahsoka woke to sunlight not-so-gently shining through the guestroom window, landing directly on her face. She groaned and buried her face in the pillow, unwilling to let go of sleep. She smiled into it; without the sun in her eyes, she could easily drift back off with how soft this pillow was. _I don't remember my pillow ever being so soft,_ she thought blearily. A few seconds later, she remembered where exactly she was, and shot upright. A panicked look at the clock on the nightstand told her it was barely mid-morning, and she relaxed. Still, she had a mission, so she made herself presentable, straightening her clothes and belt, then pulled on her boots. Still not entirely awake, a maybe-dream-maybe-memory came to her, and she paused to consider it.

In the dream-memory (vision?), she woke up in the guestroom. It was dark, sometime during the night, and she'd stood, walking to the door. Ahsoka had expected some impossible space, a common occurrence in her dreams, but it was only Obi-Wan's apartment, dark but for the small amount of light shining in from the living room windows. Her eyes adjusted to the light quickly, and she walked the short distance to the bathroom. When she came out again, she remembered her thoughts from before she'd fallen asleep, and glanced at the couch. Rather than being occupied by a sleeping Maul, like she'd expected, it was empty. There wasn't any sign of someone having slept on it, at least not from this distance in the dim light. Her tired brain just passively acknowledged this information, and she continued back the the guestroom, almost immediately falling back asleep.

Ahsoka thought carefully about it. It could easily have been a dream, but if it was a memory, then where had Maul gone? If it was instead a vision, something she'd heard of, but never experienced herself, then what did it mean? Deciding there wasn't much use in sitting here puzzling over it, she stood again and left the guestroom. In the living room, Maul and Obi-Wan were sitting, speaking quietly to each other. Obi-Wan noticed her, and smiled over his mug of caf.

“Good morning, Ahsoka. Donut?” Obi-Wan offered cheerfully. Ahsoka now saw that there was a box on the kitchen counter, with the logo of a local bakery on the side.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, faintly confused. Ahsoka grabbed a something chocolate and cream-filled, settling into a chair to Obi-Wan's left. Maul, who was sitting on the couch next to him, took a bite from a donut covered in sprinkles, his face set in a dour expression. He took a sip from his own mug, scrolling through a datapad resting in his lap.

“Don't mind Maul,” Obi-Wan said almost conspiratorially, drawing Ahsoka's attention, “I've found he's not much of a morning person.” Maul gave an absent grunt of acknowledgment at the mention of his name.

“Ah, nothing Maul,” Obi-Wan said, patting his shoulder lightly. Maul hadn't even bothered looking up, and just squinted at something on the datapad, chewing on another bite of donut. The way Obi-Wan's head was turned, Ahsoka got a good look at his neck; low on the side of his neck, almost hidden by the collar of his shirt, was a faint bruise that she was reasonably sure hadn't been there yesterday.

“Um, senator – I mean, Obi-Wan? Are you alright?” Ahsoka asked cautiously. Obi-Wan looked confused, so she motioned to the same spot on her own neck. “Your neck –,” she cut herself off as Obi-Wan's eyes widened and he slapped his hand over the mark, and her own mind finally connected the dots. _UHHHHHH,_ Ahsoka thought intelligently, and she was sure the realization had shown on her face, because Obi-Wan suddenly looked a lot redder than he had before. Now, she might have been somewhat sheltered from her life in the temple, but Ahsoka was still a teenager. She'd heard her share of stories, from some of the more adventurous and unruly padawans.

The knowledge only made this entire situation more awkward, as she and Obi-Wan studiously avoided eye contact.

“Ah, well –,” Obi-Wan began, and cut himself off to clear his throat. Ahsoka quickly took this opportunity to cut in.

“No, no, it's okay –,“

“There's a simple explanation for this, honestly –,”

“It's none of my business, really –,“

Both of them fell silent; Obi-Wan sat there, mortified, and Ahsoka pointedly looked out the window while nibbling on her breakfast. The sudden and extended silence drew Maul's attention away from his datapad. He took in Ahsoka, who was quickly running out of food as a distraction. He looked at Obi-Wan, still red-faced with a hand clamped over his neck. His brows furrowed as he sipped from his mug, brain turning over this information. He nearly choked on his coffee with his abrupt bark of laughter, and Obi-Wan's head whipped around to give him an affronted look.

“Maul! it's not funny!” Obi-Wan said, scandalized. Maul snorted around his coffee, leaning back further into the couch.

“It really is,” Maul replied, shoving the last of his donut into his mouth. Ahsoka, options for distraction exhausted, covered her face and slid down in her chair.

 _Why couldn't master have let me_ _guard Senator Amidala instead?_ she thought ruefully, while Obi-Wan insisted his point to a still-amused Maul.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to have like, action! and tension! but instead it turned into “Obi and Maul are cute and domestic and Totally Not Boning What Are You Talking About™” with a side of “The Ahsoka Tano Power Hour”  
> also heck off auto-correct, it IS 'donut', shut up


	8. Reacting to the other one crying about something. (Mistaken Identity AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Mistaken Identity AU, courtesy of SLWalker and a tumblr prompt meme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is a thirsty boy, and this certainly earns the T rating

Obi-Wan lounged on his berth, datapad in hand, resting on his stomach lazily. He was making a valiant effort to read through the same book for the third time, but there was only so much one could do when the writing in question hadn't been very arresting the first time around, much less the second or third. It was the middle of one of Maul's sleep cycles, which gave him little to do but attempt to entertain himself. The good news was that within a day, they would drop out of hyperspace and arrive at Coruscant. Obi-Wan wouldn't consider himself claustrophobic, but after almost a week stuck on Maul's ship, he was restless, and ready to set foot on solid ground once more.

Not that the journey had been that bad, if he was being honest. After the “ _ incident” _ with the hot sauce, the air of awkwardness had mostly lifted, and Maul had actually begun speaking to him in more than short, to-the-point sentences. Obi-Wan swiftly came to appreciate the other man's dry sense of humor, difficult as it was to identify. There was so little change to Maul's tone when he joked that Obi-Wan missed it at first, much to Maul's amusement. Obi-Wan found his mind wandering, an absent-minded smile stretching his face as he stared through the datapad. Remembering Maul's barely-there grins, the one bout of actual laughter he'd witnessed... Obi-Wan shook his head, pushing the thoughts away with a flush.  _ You're a Jedi Knight _ , he thought, burying his face into the berth's pillow. 

A vibration seemed to run through the ship, and Obi-Wan's head shot up. It was only after he'd leapt to his feet that he realized it hadn't been a physical sensation, but rather something through the force. He carefully spread his senses across the ship, and when the force shuddered again, he was able to roughly identify where it was. He followed it out of his cabin, and quietly walked through the ship until he was in front of Maul's door. The walls of the ship were well insulated, and it was nearly silent around him except for the low hum that came with being in hyperspace. He didn't hear anything from Maul's cabin, and was doubting whether he'd actually felt anything, about to turn away when he felt it again; a suffocating wave of fear, pain, and confusion, coming directly from where he knew Maul was.

“Maul?” Obi-Wan called, knocking on the door, “Are you alright?” He didn't get a response, and knocked a bit more firmly, repeating himself. Still nothing. Obi-Wan shivered as another wave washed over him, and when it abruptly cut off, he hurriedly slapped his palm against the access panel. He was surprised when it actually opened, revealing a dark room, lit only by the light spilling in around him.

“Maul?” Obi-Wan tried, stepping cautiously over the threshold. He again received no reply, but in the darkness before him, he could hear the sound of irregular, labored breath. The door slid shut behind him, and his newly adjusting eyes now picked up the faint glow of the small emergency lights, creating a line around the room where floor met wall. He could just make out Maul's figure, sitting hunched over on the berth and indistinct in the darkness. Obi-Wan stepped forward, unsure if he should try to be quiet or make himself easily heard, watching Maul's shoulders shake as he heard him take one shuddering breath after another. Then Obi-Wan was standing next to the berth, close enough to make out more than just vague details.

Maul was sitting, curled over himself and resting against his bent knees. The berth's top sheet was tangled around his waist and legs, his face pressed against the bunched fabric, while his hands clung to tight fistfuls of it. He was taking short, hitching breaths, and either hadn't noticed Obi-Wan, or just wasn't acknowledging him. Obi-Wan frowned in concern, hesitating before he reached out, and laid a hand on Maul's bare, clammy back. He expected Maul to startle at his touch, but the man seemed to be completely in his own head, and didn't react with more than a shiver at the contact.

“Can you hear me, Maul?” Obi-Wan asked, even his soft voice sounding unbearably loud in the silence of the room. After what felt like an eternity, he saw Maul nod, still curled over himself. When Maul didn't shy away from his touch, Obi-Wan carefully settled himself on the edge of the berth. He gently rubbed at the space between Maul's shoulder-blades, subconsciously following the lines there with the tips of his fingers. Maul's shoulders still shook, but his breathing began to deepen and even out, leaning back into Obi-Wan's hand ever-so-slightly. Obi-Wan just kept up the steady motion. Eventually, Maul's shoulders relaxed from where they'd been hiked up around his ears, and he lifted his head to take a deep breath. Obi-Wan couldn't see his face from where he was, but when Maul began to straighten he pulled back.

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asked. Maul took another deep breath, then nodded. His fists unclenched, and he unwrapped his arms from around his knees. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, scrubbing at them as he turned and tossed his legs over the side of the berth, heedless of the sheet still tangled around them. Obi-Wan hesitated before he spoke again, the concern plain on his face.

“What happened?” Maul's hands dropped to his lap, and he turned almost glowing eyes on Obi-Wan, freezing him in place. Obi-Wan felt pinned by Maul's gaze, and couldn't make out his expression.

“A dream,” Maul finally answered. He turned away, and Obi-Wan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

“Would you... like to talk about it?” Obi-Wan offered tentatively. Maul didn't look up from where he was studying the lights of the door panel across the room.

“I can't,” he said, voice flat and unreadable, still rough with sleep.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said hurriedly, “I didn't mean to pry –,”

“No, I mean I  _ can't _ ,” Maul interrupted, looking at him again. “I never remember the dream when I wake up,” he continued. His face was emotionless in the dark to Obi-Wan, but his eyes were focused and intense.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said lamely, and they sat there in silence for awhile. “Does this happen a lot?” he finally asked, and immediately felt as if he'd pried too much. Maul didn't give any more of a reaction than he already had, and just blinked tiredly at him.

“Not very often,” he replied, and suddenly seemed very tired, rubbing his hands over his face. Obi-Wan watched him dumbly for a moment, eyes tracing the patterns on his arms, made faint in the low light. His gaze followed them to Maul's shoulder, then down his side until it was abruptly stopped by the sheet still around him. It had come loose at some movement of Maul's, unwrapped from around his waist to pool loosely over his lap. It exposed the skin of Maul's hip, bare down to the top of his thigh where the sheet had landed.  _ Oh, _ Obi-Wan realized,  _ He's not wearing anything under that. _ He stared, eyes wide and face gone red, then shook his head firmly and stood.

“You're still tired, I'll let you get back to sleep,” Obi-Wan said hurriedly. He hoped that the dark hid the color on his cheeks, and started toward the door. If Maul said anything, Obi-Wan didn't hear it over the sound of his finger jabbing blindly at the panel and the door opening. He winced as light from the hallway seared his eyes, and heard a hiss from behind him as well. He didn't look back as the door closed behind him, and only once he was back in his own cabin did he let his posture slump. He fell face-first onto his berth, and screamed as quietly as he could into his pillow.

_ You're being ridiculous! _ Obi-Wan told himself. He mentally went through the basic lightsaber forms he'd learned as an initiate, then through the more advanced ones he'd learned as a padawan. His mind interrupted, supplying the feeling of his hand on Maul's bare back instead of the next stance. The skin had been smooth, the black markings so similar a texture they were almost indistinguishable. Obi-Wan pushed the thought away, and instead tried to even his breathing and meditate. Again, his mind intervened, this time calling up the image of Maul's bare hip and thigh, the sheet in his mind riding tantalizingly low. How would the skin there feel, Obi-Wan wondered, and his mind conjured the image of his hand on Maul's hip, sliding down to push the sheet –. 

Obi-Wan made a frustrated noise into the pillow, rolling onto his back with it still pressed to his face. His face felt like it was on fire, and he recited a string of curses in his head. Then he said them aloud into the pillow he still held over his face. He imagined Qui-Gon giving him a disapproving look for the language, and then did the same for Master Windu and Master Yoda. Well, he wasn't so sure about Master Yoda's reaction. He'd heard some odd stories, both from Qui-Gon and other Jedi, about the Grandmaster. Obi-Wan took a deep, calming breath, and finally removed the pillow. He absently clutched it to his chest as he stared at the plain metal ceiling over his berth.  _ It's barely a day until you get to Coruscant,  _ he reminded himself,  _ You can handle that. _

He really hoped he was right, because he wasn't sure what it would mean if he wasn't.

 


	9. “Well, that's not ominous.” (Mistaken Identity AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Mistaken Identity AU, courtesy of a prompt from SLWalker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HOW'S THAT NOT UPDATING FOR AWHILE THING GOING  
> COOL, COOL, ANYWAY HERE'S TWO SHORT AND UNRELATED CHAPTERS THAT I COULDN'T GET MYSELF TO WRITE MORE OF

Maul pulled his hood lower over his head, careful not to let it snag on his horns. It was lucky he hadn't gotten around to filing them again yet, the currently dull tips made the motion much easier. He and Obi-Wan were finally, after six days in hyperspace, on Coruscant. Maul's initial understanding of the plan was that he would transport Obi-Wan to the planet, he'd wait while the datacard was delivered, and then he and Obi-Wan would go to the temple. Upon landing, however, Obi-Wan had insisted on Maul accompanying him to speak with Senator Aak, who had apparently been the one buying the information.

So here Maul was, walking through the upper levels of Coruscant with a Jedi, who was still wearing his (frankly atrocious) plain-clothes disguise. Maul was counting down the seconds until this all went horribly wrong. He'd already drawn his fair share of odd looks, which he'd honestly been expecting. They reached the building that housed the senator's office a little before midday. It was directly connected to the main senate building, and thus they had to pass through security. 'Security' was two old droids, who, once they scanned the identification card Obi-Wan presented to them, didn't even spare Maul a glance. He was pretty sure that wasn't normal, but Obi-Wan seemed unconcerned, so Maul let it go.

They stepped into a lift, silence falling between them as it took them up twenty floors. Obi-Wan shot him a glance as they waited.

“Is there a reason you're still wearing your hood?” Obi-Wan asked. Maul turned away from the view of Coruscant shown through the lift's windows.

“You hired me to deliver you and the datacard safely to Senator Aak. It would be bad to draw unwanted attention,” Maul answered, and gave Obi-Wan a slow, up-and-down look, “And you're drawing enough attention for the both of us, wearing that.” Obi-Wan huffed indignantly, but turned beseeching eyes to Maul.

“Are you still–? Look I already apologized for what I said about your clothes before –,” he said, stopping when he noticed Maul's smirk. “Oh,  _ I _ see how it is,” Obi-Wan grumbled. He'd quickly discovered, since the hot sauce incident, that Maul's humor was so deadpan it was indistinguishable from his regular speech. A fact that Maul was well aware of, and exploited judiciously, at least when it came to Obi-Wan.

“Here I am, trying to be polite, and you're just messing with me,” he complained.

“You make it so easy,” Maul grinned back. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to retort, but the lift dinged, and the doors opened to a reception area. Behind a desk sat a Twi'lek man, who looked up when they exited the lift. Obi-Wan stepped forward, and after a brief conversation went through a door just past the desk. Maul stood patiently by the elevator, ignoring the Twi'lek's curious stare. Some ten minutes passed, before finally the door opened once again, Obi-Wan stepping back out. Through the open door, Maul saw a Gran, and next to them a human man. They were both dressed similarly, in senatorial robes, though the human's were more elaborate. The man happened to meet his eyes before the doors closed, and Maul found himself inexplicably shaken.

He stared at the closed door, barely remembering to breath, and almost didn't notice Obi-Wan speaking to him.

“Well, now that that's taken care of, we can go to the Temple,” Obi-Wan said, walking ahead of Maul into the lift. Maul managed not to stumble following him, and once the doors closed behind them, rested a hand on the railing while taking deep, steadying breaths. Obi-Wan finally noticed something was amiss.

“Maul? Are you alright?” he asked softly. He reached out to lay a supportive hand on Maul's shoulder, hesitating a moment before gently settling it there. Maul squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden headache, swallowing down nausea.  _ Where the kriff is this coming from? _ Maul thought. His mind supplied a flash of bright yellow eyes, set in a face hidden by the shadow of a hood, and his stomach twisted in a visceral fear. The whole image was fuzzy, somewhere between a distant memory and a dream. After a few moments more, the whatever-it-was passed, and Maul nodded carefully.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “I'm alright.” Obi-Wan looked at him, the skepticism clear on his face.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and Maul nodded again, much more firmly this time. Obi-Wan didn't seem convinced, but he let it go in the face of Maul's insistence. When they stepped back onto the street, Maul took a deep breath of fresh air. At least, as fresh as Coruscant air got. He immediately felt better, and noticed Obi-Wan fiddling with his comm. When he noticed Maul's attention, Obi-Wan looked up.

“Ah, I'm just calling the Temple. Don't want to spring someone they think is a Sith Lord on them with no warning,” he offered, grinning wryly. Maul hummed softly in acknowledgment, and Obi-Wan went back to what he was doing.

“There we go!” he finally said, and the line spluttered to life, though with a good deal of static. “That's odd,” Obi-Wan murmured, when rather than connecting, there was only garbled sound and more static. Then, the line abruptly cut, falling completely silent. Maul and Obi-Wan stared down at the comm.

“Well,  _ that's _ not ominous,” Maul broke the silence, sarcasm clear in his voice. Obi-Wan tried a few more times, each with the same result.

“There must be something wrong with the relays at the Temple,” Obi-Wan supplied, and began walking, “Come on, there's a transport we can catch that should take us in the right direction.” Soon, they were seated on said transport, taking the first of what Obi-Wan said were a few rides that would end with them within walking distance of the Jedi Temple. The first ride was uneventful, and only took around twenty minutes. It was when they got off to switch lines that things became... complicated.

Maul had only been to Coruscant a few times in his twenty-six years of life. One had been a year or two ago, delivering five crates to a dock on the other side of the planet. Another had been transporting someone off-planet, no questions asked. The most notable, however, had been when he was thirteen. Sathan and Pry were delivering the recovered stolen property of some holo-actress, and had left him on the ship while they met with her. Somehow, and of this even Maul wasn't sure, he'd ended up locked out of the ship, hiding on top of a stack of crates from a very displeased astromech. For the next few months, and in spite of his protests, he had an almost constant chaperon, and for a long while after Pry would tease him whenever they saw an astromech.

What this all boiled down to was that Maul was very much unfamiliar with this part of Coruscant. So when he followed Obi-Wan off the transport, only to run into the back of him when the Jedi abruptly stopped, he was confused. After they both righted themselves, Maul gave Obi-Wan a questioning look. He looked back at Maul with a confused expression of his own, and scanned the platform around them with furrowed brows. Maul looked around too, and saw other passengers who'd gotten off with them looking around in confusion as well.

“This isn't the right stop,” Obi-Wan said, and continued when Maul only stared at him, “This isn't even a stop that transport is supposed to make.” By that point, the transport was once more closing it's doors, pulling away from the platform. Obi-Wan and Maul watched it go silently, and it disappeared into Coruscant's traffic.

“So how far  _ are _ we from the temple?” Maul asked. Obi-Wan was frowning at the last place they'd seen the transport.

“A little closer than we were, but still too far to walk if we want to get there today,” Obi-Wan said, before turning and leading the way through the crowd once more, “Come on, I know somewhere we might be able to securely call the temple from.” Maul rolled his eyes with a huff, but followed him nonetheless. Each moment that passed, he became surer that things wouldn't go smoothly.

 


	10. The Sith's plans concerning the Naboo invasion are very different. (Old Religion AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just after the Naboo invasion is dealt with.

Obi-Wan stared at his datapad, numbly confused by what he was seeing. It was the cover of a popular magazine, featuring a picture of Senator Palpatine – Chancellor Palpatine now, his mind supplied – seated and smiling at the camera. Next to him, the headline read,  _ New Chancellor, Old Religion _ , then below it, in smaller text,  _ The Sith Order, and why you should care about it. _ He read it a few more times, but his brain still wasn't quite absorbing the words in front of him. He swiped across the screen until he found the article, then stared some more. Next to the text of the article was another picture of Palpatine, this time from a different angle. They'd placed his chair in front of a wall of windows, showing a beautiful view of Coruscant's impressive skyline. Behind Palpatine, with their back to the camera and arms crossed, stood a black clothed figure. Obi-Wan recognized the red and black skin, the horns, and the dark tunic, as the same man who'd appeared on Naboo. 

Their group had been pinned down in a hallway, with droids approaching from both ends. He and Qui-Gon had done their best, but with the assault from two fronts, it had taken all of their concentration just to stay on the defensive. Then, from the way they'd come, the hangar door had opened. The man had darted through it, a lit saberstaff in hand, and immediately began cutting down the group of droids that had flanked them. Even though Obi-Wan had wanted to stare in confusion, with half of their assailants now occupied, he and Qui-Gon were able to give the rest of the group enough cover to break a window to reach the next floor.

By the time it was just the Jedi left on the floor, the man had dispatched the last of the droids on his end of the hallway. Now that it was split between the three of them, the droids fire from the other end of the hallway was easily managed. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon shared a glance, and at Qui-Gon's motion they ducked into the cover next to the window, climbing onto the ledge and leaping to the next floor. Before he jumped, Obi-Wan saw the man run by the window, saberstaff twirling as he deflected blasterfire. He'd given Obi-Wan the briefest of looks, face set in a grim expression, and then he was out of view. Obi-Wan jumped, arriving just in time to storm the throne room. From there, things had gone smoothly as could be expected, and soon Theed had been retaken from the Trade Federation.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had searched for the man afterward – Qui-Gon insisting that he was a Sith, and that they couldn't let their guard down yet – but they couldn't find any trace of him. What they did find were the still-smoking remains of a squad of droids, just down the hall from the throne room, and more in front of the lifts on the floor below, all of them with what was clearly lightsaber damage. Now, here the mystery man was, standing behind the chancellor in a magazine. _Well, it looks like Qui-Gon was right about him being Sith,_ Obi-Wan thought. His gaze drifted to the article itself, skimming over it. Again, his mind didn't want to process the words, and he rubbed at his forehead. It was doubtless that the rest of the temple would find out about this soon, if they didn't already know. He wasn't sure how the council would react, but he could already picture the visible vein that would appear on Master Windu's forehead. Again, he tried to focus on the words on his datapad, managing to skim it this time.Obi-Wan didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. 

_Newly elected Supreme Chancellor, Sheev Palpatine brings to mind a kindly older uncle, more than a seasoned politician. We sit in his Coruscant apartment, likely the last time he will see it before he moves to the more secure one afforded by his office. There's some small talk while a droid brings out tea, and then I begin._

“ _ **So, Chancellor, if you don't mind me cutting straight to the point: what prompted you to reveal yourself as a Sith?”**_

“ _The crisis facing Naboo. It didn't seem like the Republic would act in any official capacity, not in time to help at least. I could hardly leave my own homeworld to such a fate.” The Chancellor is grave, his friendly contenance now somber._

Obi-Wan keeps reading, as the Chancellor paints himself and the Sith as a religious order, persecuted by the Jedi, and in hiding for their own safety. About halfway through the article, the door to his room opens, and Qui-Gon comes striding in.

“The council wishes to speak with us, Obi-Wan,” he says, stopping just inside the door. Things had been strained since Naboo, with the council yielding to Qui-Gon's request and knighting Obi-Wan, allowing him to take on Anakin as his padawan. They hadn't spoken about it, after Obi-Wan's Trials or even after his Knighting, and there was an uneasy tension because of it. The lack of a padawan braid swaying as he stands is still odd, and he sets aside the datapad before following Qui-Gon towards the Council chambers. Uneasy silence punctuates the walk there, and it took Obi-Wan longer than he'd like to admit to realize it wasn't only the things hanging in the air between him and Qui-Gon; there was an almost fearful tension permeating the usually serene atmosphere of the Temple. He could even feel it in the Council chambers, once they'd been granted access and stood before the semi-circle of chairs, all of them occupied.

“I imagine word has already spread through the Temple about the Chancellor,” Mace Windu said, raising an eyebrow at Qui-Gon, who nodded in reply.

“Yes,” Qui-Gon began, ”A few of the senior padawans saw the article, and I don't have to tell you how quickly it spread from there.” A few of the Council members nodded, while Yoda's ears only twitched, his eyes closed and body otherwise completely still. If Obi-Wan wasn't already familiar with the Grandmaster, he might be worried. His attention was drawn back to Master Windu when he spoke again.

“I think it's safe to say that no one saw this coming. Worse, public reception seems to be leaning in the Chancellor's favor,” at this, his expression grew impossibly more grave, “The Order can't be perceived to be making any move against him when he has this much public approval.” Mace was practically fuming, his jaw clenched tight once he was done speaking.

“Obscured the wounds of the Jedi-Sith Wars, time has,” Yoda said as he opened his eyes, and Obi-Wan almost startled at the sudden words from the small Master. “Forgotten what the Sith are, most of the Republic has. Faded even in the Jedi, memory is.” Seemingly finished, Yoda hummed, tapping his gimmer stick against his seat as he nodded decisively. There was a heavy silence as the Council considered this.

“Perhaps changed, have the Sith. Nearly wiped out, they were. Very different, even our Order is. But vigilant, must we be,” Yoda said, then closed his eyes again with finality, settling back into his previous pose. There was silence once more, everyone seeming unwilling to be the first to speak again.

“Knight Kenobi,” Depa Bilaba eventually began, and Obi-Wan immediately straightened at the mention of his name. “Is this the man you and Master Jinn saw on Tatooine?” she asked, tapping something on the arm of her seat, and an image of the same Zabrak from the article was projected in the middle of the room. This picture was much better, and seemed to from some kind of formal identification based on the head-on view and shoulders-up framing. Obi-Wan took a good, long look at the image to be sure.

“Yes, he finally said, nodding, “That's the same person, I'm sure of it.” At that, Master Bilaba pressed another button, turning off the projection. Then Master Windu leaned forward, interlacing his fingers.

“Knight Kenobi,” he said, staring at Obi-Wan with an unreadable expression, “The Council has a mission for you.”

 


	11. Padawan Skywalker's Day Off (Assassin Obi-Wan AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Assassin Obi-Wan AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would be short, and it ended up being 4000 words long... (゜▽゜;)

Anakin sighed, slumping in his seat as he stared at his datapad. Currently, he was sitting in the Temple library, trying to finish an assignment for one of his classes. The work itself wasn't necessarily difficult, but it was exceedingly tedious, especially when Anakin wanted nothing more than to be up and doing something. Sitting in the library, with only the sound of fingers tapping against datapads, and the occasional cough, was boring. He glanced forlornly at the clock on the wall; he still had a good forty-five minutes of study period left, and it was already dragging by. When Anakin heard something, he immediately turned to look, desperate for the distraction.

Just around the corner of one of the tall shelves, he could see a group of padawans. They were all at least a few years older than him, huddled together and whispering conspiratorially. One of them kept taking quick peeks from around the shelf, scanning the room. They didn't seem to notice Anakin, too focused on keeping track of Madame Nu and the few other Knights in the library. So, once they'd ducked back behind the shelf again, Anakin slid out of his seat, walking over as quickly and quietly as he could. Luckily, Madame Nu was occupied with something on the terminal she was at, and no one else was paying any attention either. He managed to get right on the other side of the shelf, easily within hearing range of the other padawans, and mostly hidden from sight.

“– and you're sure we'll be able to get in?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. I heard about it from Aarn, and he says he went there once with Knight Dhyrr'in. We'll totally be able to get in, no problem.”

“Okay, then – ah, _kriff,_ ” the person speaking abruptly cut off, and then Anakin felt himself being pulled by a hand on his upper arm, until he was standing inside the circle of padawans, all of them staring at him.

“Alright, kid,” the last one to speak said, a pale yellow-green Rodian almost twice his height, “How much did ya hear, and whadda we gotta do for you to keep quiet about it?” Anakin didn't think, and blurted out the first thought that came to mind.

“You're sneaking out of the Temple. I want to come with you.” The group stared at him for a moment. Then they were all speaking at once, voices still low.

“Ugh, I _knew_ this was never going to work –,”

“What? You've gotta be kidding!”

“Man, come on, I don't wanna be worrying about babysitting some initiate while we're trying to have fun!”

Anakin bristled, cheeks flushing indignantly. The Rodian hastily tried to quell the other padawans as their volume began to rise, and once he'd managed to quiet them, Anakin found himself speaking again without entirely meaning to.

“I'm not a baby! I'm a padawan too, and I can take care of myself!” The group seemed surprised by his outburst, and as the Rodian checked again to make sure they weren't overheard, the rest of the group gave him a measuring once-over.

“Well,” one of the others began, a crimson Elomin, “He _is_ a padawan.” She shared a look with the Rodian, then turned her golden eyes back on Anakin. The combination of her coloration, and the similarity of Elomin to Zabrak, made him intensely uncomfortable, and he felt an involuntary shiver go down his spine.

“If you come with us, you're responsible for keeping yourself out of trouble, got it?” she stared at him expectantly until he nodded, his braid whipping against his shoulder at the movement. She nodded back curtly, and then the conversation resumed, the Rodian going on to outline the plan to leave the temple.

* * *

_This was a horrible idea,_ Anakin thought, fruitlessly trying to sink further under the hood of his cloak. Things had gone according the other padawan's plans, and they'd all successfully made it out of the Temple, slipping out through one of the loading docks between deliveries. Anakin had made sure to stick close to the group as they got to the deeper levels of Coruscant; he wasn't familiar with more than the area immediately around the Temple, and the path to and from the shop where Qui-Gon went to purchase tea. When they'd finally arrived, it was at some kind of club, on a level so low there wasn't much natural light that was able to make it's way down.

Apparently Aarn had been telling the truth, because despite the fact that they were all obviously underage, the Duros at the door didn't give them a second glance before letting them in. The inside of the club was lit by flashing colored lights, and was filled with music so loud that Anakin could feel it's vibrations in his chest. Their group began splitting up, and unsure of what to do with himself now that he was here, Anakin looked around until he found an unoccupied booth, sliding himself onto the seat. The music wasn't so loud here, where Anakin now realized was at the very back of the club. He could just see the Rodian at the bar thanks to his height, but could find anyone else in the sea of people.

The excitement of sneaking out had begun to wear off, and as he watched the sea of strangers, Anakin could only think of how much trouble he'd be in if he got caught; of how disappointed Qui-Gon would be. He was practically brooding by the time he heard shouting from the direction of the front entrance, and he jumped as the Elomin seemed to materialize out of the crowd.

“We need to go!” she shouted over the music, pulling Anakin onto his feet and dragging him with her as she made for the back door. As they were passing through it, the shouting had gotten louder, and people were starting to follow them out. The Elomin led them down an alley at a light jog, and a steady stream of people were coming out of the club after them, all of them running down different alleys.

“What's going on?” Anakin asked, now that he could hear himself think.

“Security Forces raid,” she answered, not letting up on her grip on him. Down another alley, a Security droid caught sight of them, and started to run after them. The Elomin cursed under her breath, pulling him around a corner leading to a split in the alleys.

“Do you remember how to get back to the Temple?” she demanded, and Anakin mutely nodded. She seemed satisfied, turning him around and pushing him in the direction of one of the alleys.

“Alright, then start heading back. I'll keep them distracted so you can get away.” Anakin opened his mouth to protest, and was cut him off before he could even get a word out.

“Go!” she ordered, and Anakin could only nod and obey, turning to run down the alley.

And now, here he was, lurking at the mouth of some alley in a decidedly unsavory part of Coruscant. Anakin did not, in fact, remember the way back to the Temple, something he'd realized as soon as he'd stopped running. Even if he did, the number of random turns and paths he'd taken to make sure he'd gotten away would have made the knowledge useless. He couldn't even go up a level, because he couldn't find any lifts, despite some additional wandering that had only gotten him more lost. And to top it all off, he'd left both his lightsaber _and_ his comm back in his room at the Temple. He watched pedestrians pass by as he leaned against a wall and heaved a sigh. Master Qui-Gon was always warning him not be so reckless, and now Anakin supposed he was in a situation that provided the perfect “why” to that advice.

Anakin was so busy thinking of all the ways he'd start listening more closely to Qui-Gon's advice, if he made it back to the temple (which, in Anakin's mind, was still only a maybe), that he didn't notice one of the people passing by stop, and look him over with a faintly puzzled expression. He still didn't notice when the puzzlement was replaced by understanding, or when the person walked over to him.

“I'm fairly certain that this is no place for padawans, young one,” the person said, amusement coloring their Coruscanti accent. Anakin startled so badly he almost lost his footing, narrowly avoiding falling by leaning more heavily against the wall. His head snapped upwards so quickly his hood slipped off, and the end of his braid smacked against the tip of his nose. He stared at the man, whose mouth had quirked up at one corner at his reaction, and frantically tried to figure out how he knew him. The man was leaning against the wall next to him, arms crossed casually as he waited for a reply. When Anakin finally recognized him as the man he'd seen with the Sith on Nar Shaddaa, he automatically reached for his lightsaber. His hand closed around nothing, and it felt like the bottom of his stomach had dropped out, as he remembered that he'd forgotten it.

“Oh, come now, there's no need for that,” he said, raising his hands placatingly, before loosely crossing his arms once more. “I'm simply being a good Samaritan. This really isn't someplace for a youngling to be wandering around by themselves. Not to mention you're a good distance from the Jedi Temple, and I was under the impression that padawans didn't leave it without their Masters.” Anakin just looked down guiltily, mind going back to the ever more likely reality of a disappointed Qui-Gon. The man frowned, scratching a bearded cheek in thought before coming to some conclusion.

“Alright, how about this,” he said, straightening up, “Hello, I'm Obi-Wan. It's very nice to meet you...?” and he paused, looking at Anakin expectantly.

“... Anakin,” he finally replied, committing Obi-Wan's name to memory. Qui-Gon hadn't been able to find anything about the man with only a physical description, but maybe with even just a first name he'd have more luck.

“Well then, it's very nice to meet you Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, giving Anakin a sunny grin. “Now, whatever are you doing all the way down here?” Anakin frowned up at him, and didn't say anything.

“Hmm. Well let me take a guess: for one reason or another, you snuck out of the Temple. Then, you managed to get lost, and here we are. Is that close?” Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow, looking very sure of himself. Anakin hastily wiped the surprise off his face, replacing it with an indignant scowl.

“No!” he bit back. “I know exactly where I am!” he insisted at Obi-Wan's skeptical look.

“I suppose you don't need any help finding the lifts then,” Obi-Wan said smoothly, and as he turned and began to walk away, Anakin felt a jolt of panic go through him.

“Wait!” Anakin called out, and Obi-Wan stopped, looking at him over his shoulder. “I don't know where the lifts are,” he ground out sulkily, and Obi-Wan smiled at him.

“Now that wasn't so hard, was it? And I just so happen to be heading to the lifts right now,” Obi-Wan replied, beginning to walk again as Anakin caught up to walk next to him. “Pull your hood back up too, I was being serious before,” he added. When Anakin wasn't quick enough for his liking, he reached down and tugged the hood back over Anakin's head himself. Anakin huffed in annoyance, halfheartedly batting at Obi-Wan's already retreating hand. Qui-Gon was always doing the same thing to him, straightening Anakin's tunic or robes, and by now his default reaction was mild exasperation. They walked for awhile, Obi-Wan easily leading them through the crowds, and Anakin stared at him for awhile, lost in thought.

“Why were you with the Sith?” Anakin finally blurted out, and Obi-Wan looked down at him, visibly confused.

“Sith?” he asked, and Anakin rolled his eyes.

“On Nar Shaddaa,” he clarified, “The Zabrak.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said in understanding, “You mean Maul?” Anakin didn't know if that was the right name, but nodded nonetheless. Obi-Wan looked away again, efficiently scanning the crowd like he'd been before.

“Maul is –,” and he paused for a moment, an expression Anakin couldn't decipher crossing his face, “– a friend. He asked me to go with him to Grakkus' party.” He then turned his gaze onto Anakin. “Why were you and your Master there? Nar Shaddaa isn't exactly Jedi friendly, though if you're any example that doesn't seem to stop you, does it?” Anakin glared and looked away.

“Grakkus had things that belong in the Temple,” Anakin said after a few minutes of silence.

“I see,” Obi-Wan hummed, deftly steering Anakin around a group of surly looking Bith. After a little while longer walking, they ran into a dense crowd, blocking their path. Obi-Wan frowned at the obstruction, leaning up onto the tips of his toes to try and see what the hold up was. He sighed in frustration, settling back onto his feet.

“ _Lovely,_ ” he muttered, an aggravated look settling on his face. Anakin tried to see through the crowd himself, with predictably poor results, before giving up and turning to Obi-Wan.

“What? What is it?” he asked as Obi-Wan began leading them down a different street.

“Someone crashed a speeder into the lifts, from the looks of things,” Obi-Wan explained, “Don't worry, there's another way up, it's just a bit more roundabout.” His comm suddenly chirped, and Obi-Wan tapped a small earpiece that Anakin hadn't noticed before.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan said, and if there was a reply, Anakin couldn't hear it over the ambient sounds on this level. He still watched Obi-Wan, at least paying attention to the half of the conversation he could hear.

“I'm afraid I've been waylaid slightly. Someone appears to have taken the lifts out of commission,” Obi-Wan said after a brief silence.

“Well, I've also run into a bit of a situation of my own,” at this, he shot a glance at Anakin.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” followed by another pause.

“I'm not certain that's the best idea –,”

“Who are you talking to?” Anakin interrupted, and immediately snapped his mouth shut at the look Obi-Wan gave him. Convinced that Anakin was sufficiently cowed, he turned his attention back to his conversation.

“No one,” he said into the comm, then with a roll of his eyes, “Yes.” He was quiet for a few moments, listening, then let out an exasperated sigh.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan answered, and hung up.

“You know,” Obi-Wan said, giving Anakin a chastising look, “It's rude to interrupt people while they're using the comm.” Anakin muttered an insincere _'sorry'_ , and despite his unimpressed expression, Obi-Wan let it go. He changed the direction they were going slightly, and before long they'd reached a working set of lifts. It was a smaller station than the other one, and there was a short line they waited in before they were able to take one up. When they stepped in, Anakin looked at Obi-Wan suspiciously when he didn't press the button to take them to the surface level. When he noticed Anakin's expression Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“This lift doesn't go to the surface levels, despite having the buttons for them,” and he gestured to levels one through seven, right above the button he'd pressed for level eight. They all had faded black tape over them, most of it peeling off. “We'll have to find a more central lift on eight to get to the surface. I told you, this is a more roundabout way.” Anakin spent most of the ride looking out the lift's view-screen, watching as the light steadily became brighter the further up they went. This lift was clearly older than the one Anakin had initially come down in with the other padawans, and it took longer to get them to their destination. The lift stuttered worryingly as it stopped, and Anakin practically leapt off of it ahead of Obi-Wan, who followed him at a more sedate pace.

This level, despite being much higher and closer to the Temple, was still unfamiliar to Anakin. He looked around, disappointed. He'd hoped that he would recognize the area, and be able to get back to the Temple on his own, but it looks like that idea wasn't going to pan out. Obi-Wan stopped once they were clear of the lifts, looking around.

“So, how much of Coruscant _are_ you familiar with, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked once they'd started walking again. Between the walking they'd already done on the lower levels, and Anakin's running from Security Forces, his energy was flagging fast.

“Just around the Temple,” he mumbled, and without much thought continued, “And where Master Qui-Gon goes to buy tea.” Obi-Wan watched as Anakin began to tiredly drag his feet, a small amused grin on his face.

“And where would that be?” Obi-Wan asked him, slowing his pace slightly. Anakin's brows furrowed as he thought.

“Sector twelve, I think?” Anakin answered, uncertain. He didn't usually pay that much attention when he was out with Qui-Gon, trusting his Master to lead them around safely.

“That's not too far from here,” Obi-Wan replied, changing their direction ever-so-slightly. He chuckled under his breath as Anakin lagged behind.

“Do you need me to carry you?” he asked, gently nudging Anakin's shoulder. Anakin puffed up his chest and glared at Obi-Wan, his face flushing.

“No, I'm not a _baby!_ ” he complained loudly, which only seemed to amuse Obi-Wan more.

“If you're sure,” Obi-Wan said with a short laugh. Anakin was so focused on glaring at Obi-Wan, he nearly missed the cloaked figure that fell into step with them on Obi-Wan's other side. Obi-Wan saw his eyes shift, and turned to look at the figure as well.

“Ah, there you are,” Obi-Wan said without missing a beat. Anakin got a good look under their hood, and felt his face go white as a sheet. It was the Sith, terrifying yellow gaze meeting his for a moment that felt like an eternity, before it shifted to Obi-Wan.

“Kenobi,” he said shortly, and Anakin was too shaken to make conscious note of what was probably Obi-Wan's last name. He instinctively glued himself to Obi-Wan's side, putting as much of the man between himself and the Sith as he could. Upon feeling Anakin practically clinging to his leg, Obi-Wan stopped and looked down at him. He seemed confused for a moment, before glancing between Anakin and Maul in understanding.

“Now, now, Anakin, there's no need to be afraid of Maul,” Obi-Wan smiled, giving him a consoling pat on the shoulder, “In fact, would you like to know a secret?” Anakin tore his eyes away from Maul to look at Obi-Wan cautiously. After a moment, he nodded.

“You see,” Obi-Wan began in a conspiratorial stage whisper, while Maul rolled his eyes next to them, “Maul only _looks_ scary. That's just what his face is like. He's actually very nice.” True to form, when they both turned to look back at him, Maul was giving Obi-Wan an impressive scowl.

“I am not _nice,_ ” he growled, aiming a kick at Obi-Wan's shin. The man easily moved his unencumbered leg out of the way, and Maul just sneered at the both of them.

“See?” Obi-Wan said, and gently pried Anakin off his leg, getting them moving again. Anakin couldn't get himself to let go completely, and settled for having his left hand clenched in the loose fabric of Obi-Wan's pants. Maul growled to himself, but kept pace with them at Obi-Wan's side.

“How did you manage to pick up a stray padawan? And _Jinn's_ no less?” Maul hissed at Obi-Wan, at a volume clearly meant to be out of Anakin's hearing. Anakin pretended not to hear them as Obi-Wan whispered back, pretending to be engrossed in the sight of the shops they were passing.

“I found him lurking in some alley on the lower levels,” Obi-Wan said, a note of irritation in his voice, “What was I supposed to do? He's what, ten? That's no place for a child, I wasn't going to just leave him there.” Anakin resisted the urge to tell them that he was _twelve, thank you very much,_ and kept listening instead.

“Well you can't keep him. As much as I would like to see Jinn's face once he realizes he's lost another padawan, I'm don't want the entirety of the Jedi Order on the warpath to rescue their poor, innocent padawan from the big bad Sith,” Maul muttered sarcastically. _Lost another padawan?_ Anakin thought, face twisting in confusion. “And he's twelve,” Maul tacked on, and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“How do you know how old he is?” Obi-Wan asked. In lieu of answering, Maul hummed and looked away, pretending to pay attention to the shops they passed, in much the same way Anakin was. Obi-Wan let out an exasperated huff, but dropped the topic. He looked down at Anakin instead.

“Anakin, you said your Master goes to a specific tea shop?” Anakin looked up.

“... Yeah,” he said, eyes darting to Maul suspiciously, who was still pretending to ignore them. Obi-Wan nodded, and turned to Maul.

“Would it be safe to assume you know where this tea shop might be, Maul? Somewhere in Sector twelve, maybe?” Maul was quiet for a few moments.

“Yes,” he finally said, and started walking slightly ahead of Obi-Wan, leading the way. Quickly, things began to look more familiar to Anakin. Before he knew it, they were passing by the restaurant whose window had been broken the last time he'd seen Maul. Both his and Maul's gazes lingered on the yet to be fixed hole where the window used to be, walled up now with a wooden board. Obi-Wan watched them curiously.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan said abruptly, “Did you _actually_ get thrown through a window?” He looked at Maul, waiting for an answer. Maul only growled, sinking further under his hood, doing a much better job of it than Anakin had earlier.

“Master Qui-Gon force-pushed him,” Anakin provided helpfully, earning a glare so venomous from Maul that he immediately hid himself behind Obi-Wan's leg again.

“Stop that,” Obi-Wan said to Maul as he loosened Anakin's grip once more. Maul turned his glare onto Obi-Wan instead, though it lacked any real bite now. Instead of replying, Maul flung an arm out, gesturing to the shop they'd now stopped next to.

“We're here,” he said through ground teeth, then looked at Anakin again.

“Youngling,” he started, and Anakin forced himself to meet his unnerving gaze, “You can find you way back to the Temple from here?” It was barely phrased as a question, and Anakin nodded haltingly. Seeming satisfied with this, Maul turned on his heel and began to walk away.

“Your good deed for the day is done, Kenobi, let's go,” Maul said as he passed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan gave Anakin one last look.

“Can you find your way back from here?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin took a moment to think, and nodded much more easily this time.

“Yes,” he answered, “I'll be okay.” Obi-Wan grinned at him, giving him one last pat on the shoulder.

“Well then, I hope next time we meet under better circumstances,” and with that, Obi-Wan turned, jogging to catch up to Maul, who had stopped at the corner to wait for him, impatience clear on his face. Obi-Wan gave him a jaunty wave as they turned the corner, much like he had on Nar Shaddaa, and Anakin watched the spot he'd disappeared from for a while longer. By now, he was sure Qui-Gon had noticed he was gone. He gave the tea shop a considering look. Maybe he could pretend that he'd left to buy Qui-Gon some tea, as an apology for sneaking onto the ship to Nar Shaddaa.

Yeah, that could work.

 


	12. Maul isn't happy about his role in the Sith's plans. (Old Religion AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of the Old Religion AU from chapter 10

Maul stood, staring out the window with a stormy expression. He was _not_ sulking; sulking was something a petulant child did when they didn't get their way. Maul was a _Sith Lord,_ and a grown adult to boot. He thought for moment, his eyes losing focus briefly as his attention turned inward.

 _Seething_. Now, there was an appropriate term, befitting his status. So Maul stood, arms crossed, very specifically seething as he examined the nightlife of Coruscant. It was actually quite nice, the vantage point of the apartment providing a sea of lights that stretched into the horizon. An ever-moving stream of airspeeders created a series of winding lines, like some kind of bio-luminescent creature. Maul found himself slipping out of his refined seething, lulled into a more relaxed state by the view, and forced a scowl in an attempt to throw himself back into it.

“Maul, stop that ridiculous sulking and come here.” Maul's scowl solidified, and despite the fact that he was definitely _not_ sulking, turned away from the window. The apartment, in addition to an excellent view, boasted a comfortably lavish and spacious interior as well. In the dining and kitchen area, which was raised a step up from the living room where Maul was, sat his Master. Sidious was watching him from his seat at the dining table, his expression supremely unimpressed. He was still wearing his Senator's robes, though this would probably be the last time he wore them, now that he'd been elected Chancellor. Sidious raised a graying eyebrow at him, and with a small huff Maul strode over, taking a seat at the only other place setting on the table.

“I was not _sulking_ ,” Maul insisted lowly. Sidious gave him a skeptical look, employed by every parent in the galaxy at one point or another, but didn't press the issue. Now that Maul was seated, a serving droid placed a plate of food in front of each of them. When Maul only halfheartedly pushed his food around with a sulky expression, Sidious took a deep breath, setting his fork down.

“Maul,” Sidious started, “I know that you are –,“ he paused a moment, “– less than comfortable being in the public eye. However, while I am the face of the Sith as a whole, you are the face of the Sith as a _new generation_.” Sidious paused to let this sink in. “Your presence is essential to completely cementing the Sith in a way that benefits us. Keeping public favor will give us power against the Jedi, and eventually the Order will tear itself apart. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Maul said, still looking displeased, but nodding.

“And that's another thing,” Sidious added as he speared a bit of food, “As far as the public is concerned, you're my adopted son, so remember to refer to me as _'father'_.”

“ _Hmmmmmmrg_.”

* * *

It wasn't until later, a few days after the article had been published, that Maul fully comprehended what it would actually _mean_ to be the “face” of the Sith.

He'd always, to some degree, had free reign to wander through whatever city he and his Master were in, provided he didn't draw undue attention to himself. Granted, most of his childhood had been spent at the secluded Palpatine estate back on Naboo, only accompanying Sidious to Coruscant occasionally. Still, Maul had always had a knack for moving around unnoticed. As he'd gotten older, and began to spend more time on Coruscant than on Naboo, he'd very quickly fallen into the habit of exploring the immediate sectors as often as he could. The crowded streets presented a different challenge than the nearly untouched wilderness surrounding the house on Naboo, and when he'd first started, Maul had relished it.

Now, his wandering was less that, and more a series of familiar circuits. The one he was was on currently led him through a shopping district not too far from Sidious' Senatorial apartments, where the variety of both locals and tourists allowed him to easily blend with the crowd. There'd been reports that the weather generator in the sector was on the fritz, creating an unseasonable cold snap, and while Maul would usually avoid the cold when he could, with the knowledge of his master's new orders he couldn't stand being cooped up any longer. Usually, he'd be wearing his full cloak, but now he only pulled snug the scarf wrapped around his neck and lower face; in the lower levels, the cloak was perfect for going unnoticed, but up here this close to the surface, it would only make him stand out even more.

A stiff breeze slapped him in the face, and Maul felt an involuntary shiver go up his spine. _Ugh._ Though Zabrak were generally regarded as a hardy species, which was mostly true, they weren't naturally built for cold weather. Maul could certainly endure a harsher range of temperatures than a human, but he had a special hatred in his heart for cold weather. A glance through the crowd found him a cafe, and the idea of something warm to drink made Maul change direction towards it. He gave a wide berth to a parent and their five very excited, very _loud_ children, cringing internally at the noise. The cafe was a welcome change, because it may have been crowded, and loud with the chatter of it's occupants, most importantly it was _warm_. The actual line to order wasn't very long, and with his warm drink in hand, Maul left to continue his walk.

Even just holding the steaming cup while he walked was improving Maul's mood. He tugged his scarf down just enough to take a sip, and let out a contented sigh as it's warmth radiated through him. A second later, his shoulders tensed. Maul forced them to relax, disguising his scanning of the crowd by taking another drink. His focus landed on a Rodian, who was holding a camera while looking pointedly away from him, in a manner they seemed to think was inconspicuous. Senses now on high alert, Maul felt a twitch in the force, turning around just in time to be accosted by a Twi'lek shoving something into his face.

“Mr. Palpatine, Chir'da Kreen from the Coruscanti Sun, a moment of your time?” she asked with a blindingly white smile, holding up what Maul now realized was some kind of recording device. He'd instinctively made an aborted grab for his saberstaff, and it was lucky that he hadn't brought it; he didn't want to think about what his master would do if he killed some kind of reporter in a crowded shopping center. Instead of answering, Maul turned on his heel and started walking. She hurried after him, undeterred.

“Mr. Palpatine, what exactly was your role in ending the Naboo occupation?” He again didn't answer, and from the crowd at least five more reporters seemed to materialize, following him alongside the Twi'lek.

“Mr. Palpatine, now that your father has been elected Chancellor, do you intend to run for Naboo's open senate seat?” Maul walked faster, but the group only sped up to match, and he gained no ground at all.

“Mr. Palpatine, can you tell us more about the relationship between the Sith and Jedi?” By this point, the rest of the crowd had started to take notice. Around him, people stopped and stared as Maul sped by, just shy of jogging, to reach the edge of the shopping district.

“Mr. Palpatine, what's that you're drinking?” Finally, he reached the lifts, but at this location and time of day, they were already at capacity. Maul scowled at the crowd of shoppers standing between him and possible escape. He threw the dregs of his drink into a convenient trashcan after he nearly crushed it in frustration.

“Mr. Palpatine –,” Whatever the question was going to be, Maul never heard it. The reporter cut themselves off with a gasp as Maul briefly eyed the distance, then with a running start, planted a foot on the railing and jumped up to the next level. He easily cleared the upper railing, landing with a small bounce. When he looked back, the reporters were all gaping, dumbfounded. Maul allowed a himself a brief smirk, then took the head start he'd just gained, hopefully to get back to his apartment before anyone else started trying to bother him.

Maul thankfully made it back without any further incidents. He let out a huff of annoyance as he unwound his scarf, hanging it from a coat hook. The apartment itself was bigger than what Maul felt he had any use for, much like the Palpatine manor. That was what happened when you lived so close to Sidious' old Senatorial apartments, with the level of security he and his master required. The thing that Maul really liked about it was the private terrace. It was really less of a terrace and more of a greenhouse, placed on the roof of the building and accessible only by private lift in Maul's apartment. He'd programmed the droids that tended it to make it as close to the woods by the manor as was possible, and preferred training and meditating there, rather than in his apartment.

As he was kicking off his boots, his comm started to ring, and he immediately felt his stomach sink. There were only two people who had this number, and he couldn't think of a reason it would be his Grandmaster; usually if Plagueis needed to contact him, he'd write rather than call. He checked the screen, and after taking a steadying breath, answered.

“Yes, Master?” He heard datapads being shuffled around as Sidious clicked his tongue.

“Maul, what did I tell you?” he said, and Maul held the comm at arms length in the hopes it wouldn't pick up his frustrated growl.

“Yes, _father?_ ” he ground out. Sidious hummed in satisfaction as he audibly set down a datapad.

“Well, _son,_ I see you've had your first encounter with the media today,” he began – _Here it comes,_ Maul thought, wincing preemptively – “And I must say, you've done an excellent job.” _What?_ Maul blinked at his comm in surprise.

“The young people are all talking about it on Chitter. Oh, look, someone chirped a video,” there were a few moments of silence, punctuated by the muted sounds of a crowd, before Sidious continued, “Hmm, good form, but you need to practice your landings Maul.” Maul nodded numbly, before he remembered this was an audio only call.

“Yes – father,” he managed to correct at the last second. Sidious gave a small chuckle, the sound distorted by a waver in the connection.

“Well, be careful, those reporters are relentless. You'll have to be a bit more vigilant to see them coming, they've even managed to sneak up on me a few times.”

“Yes, father.” The new title was getting a little easier to insert smoothly each time he did it, though it still felt odd to Maul.

“The Republic won't run itself,” Sidious sighed, “So I must be going. Goodbye, Maul.”

“Goodbye,” Maul replied, but before he could hang up, Sidious spoke again.”

“Oh, and you might want to reevaluate the privacy of your terrace,” he said offhand, ending the call right after.

 _WHAT._


	13. Obi-Wan has a hangover, but Maul is feeling fine. (Assassin Obi-Wan AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was originally going to be part of another AU, but an anon on tumblr from awhile ago made me realize it would be fun for this one instead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyy, look who finally has an update after almost five months

Obi-Wan groaned into his pillow, the painful throb in his head dragging him out of sleep. He laid there for a good five minutes, in the hopes that the drumming against the inside of his skull would stop. When it didn't, he carefully lifted his head to take stock of his surroundings. The room was blessedly dark, save for a few small slivers of light leaking around the heavy curtains of a window, and through the narrow gap at the bottom of a door. Unfortunately, this was also giving his already unfocused eyes trouble seeing anything. He squinted into the dark, and eventually his eyes adjusted, revealing that he was at least in his own bed.

He flopped back down with a relieved sigh, only to hiss and press the heels of his hands to his eyes as the jarring motion aggravated what he now recognized to be a serious hangover. It was quickly shaping up to be the worst hangover Obi-Wan had ever had. He gingerly pulled his hands away as the sharp pain subsided to a throb once more. Very carefully, Obi-Wan pushed himself up, pulling his legs over the side of his bed. He tried to recall what must have been last night, according to the date and time displayed by the clock on his nightstand, while pulling away the sheets that were still half-way wrapped around him. The sudden awareness of the awful taste in his mouth distracted him, and he grimaced. He slowly stood up, bracing himself with a hand on the wall, then shuffled with bare feet to the door. Then he paused.

Bare feet? Obi-Wan looked down, and his feet were indeed bare. He was wearing a thin undershirt, sporting a large stain, and an old threadbare pair of workout pants, which for some reason were on backwards. The oddness of this was compounded by the fact that he usually didn't bother wearing pants to bed when he was home, but he supposed there was no accounting for the decisions of what must have been his enormously inebriated mind. He looked around the room, and found the rest of what he'd been wearing yesterday in a surprisingly neat pile near his dresser, his boots together and upright next to it. He absently scratched at his beard as he again tried to remember last night. He'd met Maul at what had become the usual place, discussed business, then Maul had left like he always did –.

Except Maul hadn't left? Instead of ignoring Obi-Wan's offer of a drink like he normally did, Maul had accepted. Obi-Wan remembered being surprised; at this point, asking Maul to stay and have a drink had become a habit, rather than something he expected Maul to actually agree to. He didn't remember exactly what he'd said next, some joke about Maul and alcohol? His eyes widened as his brain finally made the right connection, and he remembered more. 

Obi-Wan had, however jokingly, wondered that the reason Maul had never accepted his offer before was because he couldn't hold his liquor. The narrowed eyes Maul had given him had immediately alerted him to his error, but it was too late. He'd tried to take back the comment, but Maul evidently felt that Obi-wan had challenged him in some way. After that, Obi-Wan's memory was lost to the quickly thickening haze of what was an honestly unhealthy amount of alcohol. He stared in horror at his bedroom door, suddenly very hesitant to open it. The possibility of having to deal with a hungover Maul was, frankly, horrifying. If Obi-Wan was this badly hungover… Well, he'd only been _mostly_ joking when he'd said Maul couldn't drink. He'd gotten the distinct impression that Maul wasn't one for purposefully impairing his own senses, and while Obi-Wan was by no means an alcoholic, you didn't lurk in bars to gather information without ending up with a few drinks over the course of the few hours he usually spent on such an endeavor.

_It's your own fault,_ Obi-Wan thought past the hangover,  _You just have to live with your bad decisions._ He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Maul was probably incredibly worse off than he was, and though it was because of Maul's own stubbornness, it was also partially Obi-Wan's fault for goading him, however unintentionally. Not to mention Maul had probably crashed on his couch, which was fine to sit on, but not very comfortable for sleeping. Obi-Wan finally opened the door, wincing at the sudden bright light. He stepped out, blinking to clear his vision, and stopped to stare uncomprehendingly into his living room.

The couch and table had both been pushed against the wall to clear a space. In the surprisingly large area of floor this revealed sat Maul, completely at ease, and seemingly not suffering from the mother of all headaches that Obi-Wan was currently experiencing. He was currently bent in a stretch that Obi-Wan would find rather impressive if the situation were different. As it stood, the addition of the living room's light had made his headache grow, from a mostly manageable steady throb to something more like a stampede of angry banthas. He massaged his temples with a low sigh, and began shuffling the few feet to the 'fresher. Though Maul gave no visible indication that he'd heard him, Obi-Wan was sure he hadn't escaped Maul's notice, and he was proven right when Maul spoke.

“You're awake,” he said, and Obi-Wan had never been more thankful that Maul's default tone tended towards low and quiet. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan thought that Maul could make an enormous amount of credits as a holofilm star, just from his voice alone.

“Unfortunately,” Obi-Wan managed to reply, voice rough from sleep. When he reached the door, he didn't bother turning on the 'fresher light, instead using the light that spilled in from the living room to facilitate his search through the medicine cabinet. He winced as the pain medication rattled about in it's bottle when he finally grabbed it. He dumped a couple into his hand, swallowing them dry with a grimace. Then he gripped the sink, studying his reflection. Obi-Wan looked just as bad as he felt, even looking past the harsh shadows cast by the less than ideal lighting. He ran the sink, splashing some cool water on his face, which at least helped him feel more awake. He scrubbed the inside of his mouth thoroughly with his toothbrush, mostly just to remove the unpleasant taste lingering there. The painkillers had just started to take effect by the time he was done, but not quite enough to keep him from wincing when he turned too quickly to look back into the living room.

Obi-Wan's eyes had adjusted to the light by now, and he stood in the 'fresher doorway as he watched Maul, who was now moving through a series of what might be some kind of fighting forms, smoothly enough that it was clear he had them memorized. He'd appropriated another pair of Obi-Wan's workout pants for himself, only wearing that and an old tank top that Obi-Wan had forgotten he even owned. Obi-Wan was by no means out of shape, but he'd always been a little on the wiry side when it came to building muscle, and Maul filled out the borrowed clothing in a different and decidedly pleasant way.

“Is there something you needed?” Maul asked, and Obi-Wan realized he'd been leaning in the doorway for a few minutes just staring at Maul. He seemed to be finishing up whatever sequence he'd been moving through, and Obi-Wan pulled his eyes away from the markings that stretched over what he could see of Maul's shoulders, finally leaving the 'fresher and walking into the kitchen.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, “Please, don't stop on my account.” He couldn't tell if Maul had listened to him, too busy opening his fridge and frowning at how barren it was. He'd been meaning to go grocery shopping, and currently had barely enough ingredients for a bowl of cereal. There was a flimsy looking takeout container lurking at the back of one of the lower shelves, but Obi-Wan didn't dare investigate at his current level of queasiness. He closed his fridge, giving up his search after a glance inside the cabinets revealed a similar situation. When he turned to face the living room again, he nearly jumped at how close Maul had managed to get without making a sound. Maul had perched himself on one of the stools at the the small breakfast bar, his forearms propped on the countertop.

“I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of breakfast,” Obi-Wan confessed, then after squinting with tired eyes at the stove's chrono, “Or rather lunch, at this point.” Maul didn't seem particularly surprised by this. Now that he was closer, Obi-Wan could tell with even more certainty that Maul was completely fine. He wasn't showing any of the traditional signs of a hangover, or even of having gotten anything less than a excellent night's sleep. Obi-Wan was about to ask Maul what was going on, since one of the few things he _was_ clear on regarding last night was that Maul had drunk significantly more than him, but then he stopped himself. He'd obviously just severely misjudged Maul's resistance to alcohol.

“Well, I'm going to go get something to eat,” Obi-Wan announced instead, “You're more than welcome to come, if you'd like.” He winced halfway through the sentence at the volume of his own voice, the sound reverberating through his head despite the painkillers. Obi-Wan rubbed gently at his temples, walking out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom to get properly dressed. He stopped short as he turned to close the door behind him, finding Maul following closely where he'd expected there to be empty space. Maul raised a brow at the confusion Obi-Wan suspected was plain on his face. “Did you need something?”

“My clothes,” Maul said in a dry voice, his face managing to convey how enormously amusing he found this entire situation, despite not actually changing very much from his usual neutral expression. When Obi-Wan continued to look confused, he nodded in the direction of Obi-Wan's dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Obi-Wan's eyes were drawn to the movement, and he had to forcible pull his attention away from the rather distracting image that Maul's bare arms created. He could see Maul smirking from the corner of his eye when he finally managed it, and turned to look at his dresser.

There were his clothes, folded on the floor next to his boots – Obi-Wan paused, blinked, and looked a little closer. Those in fact _weren't_ his clothes and boots, but rather Maul's; between the dark and his painful disorientation upon waking, he hadn't noticed. In all, Maul's clothing condensed down to a much smaller pile than he'd thought it would, especially the voluminous cloak he seemed to be so fond of. Obi-Wan had only seen him without it a handful of times now. A quick scan of the room found his own boots tossed beside his closet door, with his own clothes from last night in a heap next to them.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan finally said, stepping aside so Maul could get past him. His stomach gave a nauseated grumble and Obi-Wan grimaced at the unpleasant reminder. He left Maul to his own devices, opening his closet and focusing on dressing himself. It was easy to find something clean to wear from it – Obi-Wan might not have been the best at keeping his kitchen stocked, but for whatever reason keeping up with laundry had never been a problem. He didn't bother to change his shirt, just pulled on something that wasn't thin workout pants liable to get a hole torn in them. He could hear the shuffling of fabric behind him as Maul presumably changed. When Obi-Wan turned to shove his feet into his boots, Maul was shrugging on that ridiculous cloak and straightening it.

“What?” Maul asked when he caught Obi-Wan giving him a thoughtful look.

“Well, we're going to the surface,” Obi-Wan explained as he reached down to his pile of clothes, digging around until he found his wallet. “The cloak just seems a bit conspicuous, honestly.” Maul fixed him with an arch expression.

“My face is a bit conspicuous,” he deadpanned, and Obi-Wan did have to concede that. _He_ certainly had never seen a vibrantly colored Zabrak like Maul before receiving the contract to assassinate him, and he considered himself to be rather well informed on the variety of beings the galaxy had to offer. He made it his business to be, since his job, and by extension his life, usually depended on him not overlooking some biological quirk a less common species possessed.

“Yes, but the cloak makes it _look_ like you're trying to not be noticed,” he replied instead, “That's par for the course on the lower levels, but things like that do get noticed on the surface. Especially by Security Forces.” Maul narrowed his eyes in something that wasn't quite a frown, but after a few moments he huffed out a breath and slipped off the cloak. He tossed it over the top of Obi-Wan's dresser, turning back to look at him with a raised brow that said _'happy now?'_ Like Obi-Wan, Maul had only changed out of his borrowed pants, wearing the same pair Obi-Wan remembered from last night.

However, Obi-Wan could now see the lightsaber clipped to Maul's belt without the cloak, and knew better than to try to ask Maul to leave it. Instead, he turned back to his closet and pushed clothes aside until he found what he was looking for. It was a jacket he didn't wear very often, and should be long enough to adequately obscure Maul's 'saber.

“Here, wear this,” Obi-Wan told Maul, tossing the clothing at him before scooping up his own discarded jacket from the night before. He watched as Maul, surprisingly, slid it on without complaint. It seemed a little tight in the shoulders, but the important thing was that it ended a good three inches below Maul's belt, successfully hiding its contents from view. Obi-Wan gave a quick, satisfied nod, immediately hissing and grabbing his head as the motion made his head throb. Once the sensation passed, he pulled his own jacket on and led the way to the front door, Maul following without comment.

“I hope you don't have a problem with diner food,” Obi-Wan said as he dug an old and battered pair of sunglasses out from one of his jacket's inner pockets. Maul didn't say anything, just fell into step next to him once they were in the hallway.  
  


Obi-Wan cringed as a distant, metallic sound clanged, feeling as if the noise was emanating from directly inside his eardrums. He really should have taken into account Coruscant's perpetual noisiness before leaving. On the bright side, they were nearly there, and at some point Maul had graciously allowed Obi-Wan to get a grip on his arm, and had led him through some of the more crowded and noisy areas they had to walk through. They were on the surface now, and though it was quieter than the lower levels, the sun was brighter and more direct here. Every time a few rays slipped past the sunglasses, he felt like his brain was being stabbed with a handful of very tiny needles. Maul still hadn't done anything to dislodge his grip, so Obi-Wan was still clinging to him when they arrived. He used his grip on Maul to pull him to a stop in front of a one-story building, a sign in the window proclaiming it to be _Dex's Diner._

“This is it,” Obi-Wan said, tugging Maul along after him through the door. The lunch rush was already well on it's way to winding down, so just under half the available booths were occupied. Obi-Wan led them to one of the empty ones, against the wall left of the door. It gave both of them a reasonable view of the rest of the diner, angled so neither of them had to fully put their back to the door or the other patrons. Obi-Wan sagged into his half of the booth tiredly, and managed to come off as mostly coherent when the waitress droid came to give them menus and take their drink orders. As soon as it left, he slid off his sunglasses so he could scan the menu for the most palatable option.

The lighting inside _Dex's_ was much easier on his eyes than sunlight had been, and Obi-Wan gently massaged one temple as he read. It was a given that nearly everything would be some level of greasy, but that was half the reason he'd chosen the diner in the first place. He was eyeing one of the larger specials, weighing whether or not his stomach would cooperate enough for him to eat it, when the waitress droid returned, placing a steaming mug of caf in front of Obi-Wan and a glass of orange juice in front of Maul.

Obi-Wan absently placed his order with the droid, his brain catching a little over the idea of Maul doing something as normal as ordering orange juice. He couldn't say what he'd expected Maul to order – maybe some kind of bizarre and unheard of health drink? – but it certainly hadn't been orange juice. He'd been distracted by the effects of his hangover, which was still going strong despite the pain medication, so he hadn't heard Maul order it. Now he'd missed Maul's order again, distracted this time by his surprisingly normal beverage choices. Maul was giving him an amused look again, so Obi-Wan just stirred some sugar into his caf and took a sip.

“I'm glad my hangover is proving to be so entertaining for you,” Obi-Wan grumbled halfheartedly, taking another sip and savoring it this time. He probably should have gotten something a bit more hydrating, but already he could feel the caffeine perking him up and improving his mood.

“It _is_ very entertaining, yes,” Maul replied with a grin. Obi-Wan couldn't find it in himself to be more than mildly annoyed; it was rare for him to see Maul in such a visibly good mood, and he was enjoying it despite his current discomfort. He lightly knocked his foot against Maul's under the table in retaliation anyway.

“ _Rude_ ,” Obi-Wan said, “I still don't know how you're fine, if nothing else I remember you drinking _significantly_ more than me last night.” Now Maul's face had shifted from amused to smug. He looked like he was about to say something, but then tensed, his shoulders going rigid and his expression guarded. A few seconds later, the diner's door opened, and Obi-Wan's attention was automatically drawn by the sound of the electronic bell that accompanied it. In came Qui-Gon Jinn, followed closely by Anakin, who looked like he'd hit a major growth spurt since Obi-Wan had last seen him, now coming up to Qui-Gon's shoulder instead of not even reaching his chest. Even in the few steps it took to get inside the diner, Obi-Wan could see how gangling and uncoordinated the padawan still was with his new-found stature.

There was no way they could avoid the Jedi's notice once they actually started looking around, so Obi-Wan leaned back further in his seat and drank his caf. Across from him, Maul was glaring at Jinn, who hadn't spotted them just yet, his hand slowly retreating from the table and beginning to reach for the spot on his belt Obi-Wan knew his lightsaber was clipped to.

“Is that really necessary?” he asked Maul, who paused his movement at the question to look back at Obi-Wan. This distracted Maul just long enough for Anakin to glance their way, double taking with wide eyes when he recognized them. Obi-Wan waved tiredly at the padawan, and Maul's head whipped back around to see who he was waving to. Anakin didn't seem to be abjectly terrified of Maul like he'd been the last time, but Maul's attention made him look nervous, with an undercurrent of determination straightening his spine from its slouch. Something must have caught Qui-Gon's attention, because he turned to look at Anakin, following his gaze and tensing when it landed on Obi-Wan and Maul.

Qui-Gon made an aborted grab for his lightsaber, realizing halfway through the action that they were currently in an enclosed space full of civilians. The Council had already had a field day with his and the Sith's last confrontation, with the damage to public property and panicked civilians, who had fled at the sight of two people dueling with lightsabers. The Order hadn't had any actual proof of the Sith's existence after Naboo, and he had rarely been seen over the following few years, so it was deemed a Jedi matter and quietly investigated. Since seeing him on Nar Shaddaa however, it felt like Qui-Gon couldn't walk more than five feet out of the Temple without running into him. Though he was only being dramatic with that; it had been nearly three months since Qui-Gon and Anakin had literally bumped into the Sith. Now here they were, staring at each other from across a diner.

Regardless of the fact it hadn't been completed, Obi-Wan heard Maul let out a quiet growl at Jinn's interrupted reach. Maul was still seated though, so Obi-Wan took that as a good sign that he wasn't going to leap up and start fighting that very moment. He really wished that the universe would have waited until after he'd gotten to eat to let this happen. All three force sensitives seemed to be at a loss, frozen in place and staring each other down. Obi-Wan finished his caf in a few gulps and, when it was clear that things had come to a complete standstill on both sides, flagged the waitress droid down for a refill. He was going to need a lot more than a single mug of caf to deal with this. Obi-Wan instinctively tensed when from the corner of his eye, instead of the vague shape of the droid, he saw something much wider approaching. He didn't have a chance to do more than begin turning his head in that direction when a large hand clapped him on the back, knocking the breath out of him.

“Obi-Wan!” the eponymous Dex said with a smile, “Good to see you again!” The volume of his voice man Obi-Wan cringe, but he relaxed and gave the Besalisk a friendly grin.

“Hello, Dex,” he said, “I would have thought you'd have hired a new cook and retired by now.” Dex laughed at that, leaning his lower arm on the back of the booth.

“No, no, I don't plan on retiring anytime soon,” Dex chuckled, then gave Obi-Wan a closer once over. “Oof, looks like you had a rough night.” Obi-Wan let out a short laugh of his own.

“Yes, you could say that,” he replied. Dex looked over their table, taking in Maul's still mostly full glass and Obi-Wan's empty mug.

“FLO gotten to you yet?” he asked, and when Obi-Wan nodded Dex patted him on shoulder, thankfully much more gently this time. “I'll get her over here with your refill,” Dex told him, turning and walking back towards the kitchen. His conversation with Dex had drawn Maul's attention away from the two Jedi, not that either of them had capitalized on it, still standing in the same place. They were starting to get odd looks from the other customers, standing right in front of the door as they were. The booth Obi-Wan had chosen was close enough to the door that he and Maul could hear it when Anakin's stomach loudly growled. The padawan flushed at the sudden attention it earned him from all three adults, ducking his head in embarrassment. Obi-Wan sighed, his mind now made up, and stood up to move around the table, forcing Maul further into his side of the booth so he could sit next to him.

“What are you doing?” Maul hissed lowly, leaning around Obi-Wan so he could maintain his line of sight on Qui-Gon.

“Oh please,” Obi-Wan said as he waved Anakin, and by extension Qui-Gon, over. “It's not like you and Jinn were actually going to fight right here, in the middle of a diner on the surface level, full of innocent bystanders, where Security Forces could arrive in a matter of minutes.” Anakin seemed torn between approaching and staying at his Master's side, looking between Qui-Gon and the booth uncertainly. Obi-Wan glanced at Maul when he didn't receive a reply and found the man sporting an impressive glower, though he could see Maul's resignation to the situation in there too. When he turned back, Anakin was quietly saying something to Qui-Gon, the Jedi's face settling into an expression remarkably similar to Maul's. Finally they walked over, Anakin sitting down first and then scooting over to make room for Qui-Gon.

“Hello Anakin,” Obi-Wan greeted the padawan with a nod. He received something mumbled back that vaguely sounded like a greeting, then turned to Qui-Gon. He and Maul were still eyeing each other tensely, neither of them paying much attention to anything else at the moment.

Obi-Wan was about to put an end to their impromptu staring contest, but before he could the waitress droid was back, refilling his mug and asking Qui-Gon and Anakin for their orders. This made Qui-Gon pull his gaze away from Maul, though he clearly wasn't happy about having to shift his attention. His voice was clipped as he ordered, while Anakin fumbled with his menu once the droid turned its attention to him. He managed to get his order out, visibly uncomfortable with sitting directly across from Maul, and with the tension at the table in general.

“So,” Obi-Wan began once the droid had left, “What brings the two of you all the way out here? _Dex's_ is a bit further from the Temple than I thought the Jedi usually wandered.” He shot a glance at Anakin, who slouched in his seat a little, clearly remembering the last time he'd run into Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon blinked at him, his surprise at the question and its friendly tone pulling his attention away from Maul once more.

“It's my birthday!” Anakin blurted, his excitement at the fact overtaking his nervousness temporarily. Now Qui-Gon was looking at his padawan, surprised by how friendly he was being with Obi-Wan.

“Ah, then congratulations,” Obi-Wan said, sparing a quick look at Maul. He'd relaxed marginally, convinced now that Jinn wouldn't bring out his lightsaber and start attacking at any second. Maul's face had gone from annoyed resignation to something closer to sullen, still occasionally shooting a glare at Jinn. This time it was Qui-Gon who was interrupted by the waitress droid returning, laden with a number of plates, and Obi-Wan couldn't suppress a relieved sigh at the idea of finally eating something. A startling number of them were wedged onto the section of table directly in front of Anakin, and all three adults watched in morbid fascination as he began practically inhaling his food. Obi-Wan couldn't remember ever being quite that ravenous as a teenager, but then from the looks of things Anakin was growing much more rapidly than he ever had.

They all started in on their own food, the time passing in a still slightly tense silence, though the majority of that was from Maul and Qui-Gon still. Despite Anakin's pace, Maul, Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon finished before him. He was still too engrossed in the stack of waffles he'd just started on to notice the tension ratcheting back up again, but Obi-Wan had a front row seat to Qui-Gon's face turning deadly serious as he looked at Maul.

“I suppose it would be pointless to ask you to surrender peacefully?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I have no intention of surrendering, Jedi,” Maul replied with a unkind, predatory grin.

“You know,” Obi-Wan interrupted before things could escalate any further, “I may not know what it is that started whatever feud the two of you have, but I'm certainly not in the mood to be dealing with with either of your ridiculous posturing right now.” Anakin had paused with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth, watching them all with wide eyes. Jinn's brow had furrowed at his statement, examining him with new consideration, while Maul looked mildly offended. Obi-Wan stood, placing enough credits on the table to cover his and Maul's meals and sliding his sunglasses back on.

“Now, you can either start a fight in this crowded restaurant,” Obi-Wan continued, waving to indicate how the counter and most of the booths were now occupied, “Or you can ignore each other and go about the rest of your day like reasonable adults. Either way, I'm leaving.” He turned and started walking to the door, not waiting to see if Maul was following him or not. There was silence for a moment behind him, then a hissed “ _Jedi,_ ” from Maul, sounding vaguely smug, and the sound of fabric rubbing against the plasticky booth material.

Despite the food, caf, and sunglasses, Obi-Wan still winced a little when he stepped outside. The midday sun was harsh and unforgiving as always, doing its damnedest to get past the sunglasses' protective lenses, and partially succeeding. He heard the door open and close behind him, then Maul fell into step next to him. He was giving Obi-Wan an odd look that he couldn't quite parse.

“I did not expect Jinn to back down,” Maul said, looking back at the diner over his shoulder with a contemplative gaze. Obi-Wan shrugged, letting Maul lead them on the quickest route to take them back to the lower levels, where they'd be able to lose any tail they might have picked up easily. As far as Obi-Wan could tell, their run-in with Qui-Gon and Anakin had been entirely coincidental, but he didn't begrudge Maul being a bit paranoid.

“I told you, if you weren't going to start something because of the location, he definitely wasn't,” Obi-Wan said. “Not to mention he had Anakin to worry about as well.” Maul only hummed noncommittally, abruptly pulling Obi-Wan in a sharp turn that took them down a short alley between streets. It could be disorienting, how quickly you could make your way down through Coruscant's levels if you knew the right paths to take. Getting back up was a slower process though. This time it was Obi-Wan who changed their course for a faster route, and he shot Maul an arch look.

“I _am_ still waiting for you to tell me why you and Jinn hate each other so much, just so you know.” Instead of replying, Maul walked a bit faster, and Obi-Wan caught a flash of what could have been reluctance or worry in Maul's expression before it was gone. He huffed, but didn't press the topic further, following Maul into an infrequently used lift. Either Maul would tell him, or he'd have to do some more digging himself. Obi-Wan hadn't gotten good at what he did from being blindly trusting, and this thing with Qui-Gon Jinn and Maul was proving to be an annoyance at best, and a serious problem at worst. _Then again,_ Obi-Wan thought, _Anakin recognized Maul too._ Maybe it would be less a matter of digging deeper, and more asking certain padawans some questions. Now he just had to figure out how.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Wait wait wait! You are trapped, Qui-Gon Jinn! By societal convention! We're in a ~~fine~~ dining environment! Everyone knows not to throw a scene in a ~~fancy~~ restaurant!”


End file.
